i bet i think this post is about me

Before I forget:

New glasses! There’s another one in the set, too. You can’t really see it, but the frames are green. Shiny metallic green. I love me some green!

I apologize for the size of the necklace; I know it’s so small you can barely make it out – but trust me, it’s there.

the right to remain silent

Another Kimli First:

I got pulled over tonight by the police. They flashed their lights at me, and I pulled over, and completely panicked because I’ve NEVER been pulled over before – what if they wanted to frisk me? What if I was cop brutalitied? AHH!

I rolled down both front windows, since we’ve been stopped by cops before because of the tint – but since this cop had only been following us, I didn’t think they were the issue. A (very cute) female cop got out of her car, came up to a visibly nervous me, and started asking questions.

Oh, did I mention that I got pulled over by the police two doors away from my own apartment building?

Ed and Josh were both outside, so they came towards us while the cop talked – my lights were off, which is usually a sign of intoxication. I assured her that while I may be an idiot, I was NOT drunk – Shan and I had gone to Ikea (we never made it, but that’s another story) and had just eaten some dinner before we went home. I somehow managed to turn off all the Mazdabator’s lights – I had no taillights, no running lights, no headlights, no nothin’. The cop checked out my license, was tolerant of my and Shan’s helpless giggles when we realized how stupid the whole situation was, then let us go after I told her a) I was literally 15 feet from home, b) I hadn’t been drinking, c) the owner of the car was standing right in front of it and he could vouch that I wasn’t drunk, and d) I’m really really really sorry!

Naturally, almost everyone in the neighbourhood was outside watching me be pulled over. Awesome! It is excellent that everyone got to witness my stupidity – and it IS funny, and I’m glad the cop pulled me over (but even gladder I wasn’t truly guilty of anything), but yeesh. What a way to end a pretty dull day (hence the lack of quality earlier today).

I’m almost sort of kinda a CRIMINAL!

all the colours of the rainbow

Check out my spectacular bruise!

I got it from fighting Zombie Bruce Lee. He was tough, but he’s just a zombie after all – I distracted by throwing some brains in front of the oncoming West Coast Express, and .. splat. He packed a mean punch, though – just look at that sucker. It’s huge! And multi-coloured! Ed congratulated me on the bruise; it’s that awesome. I almost want to frame it.

I missed a royal freakout! Someone in the alley behind the space station flipped the fuck out and was screaming and yelling and throwing things and beating up the dumpsters, and I missed it all! I was in a client meeting I couldn’t get out of, and I missed all the fun/ I am totally bummed out about not seeing crazy people. Then again, I live in the “ghetto of North Vancouver” (sayeth the crazy lady in #14) so I’m sure there’ll be some action before long. It’s not every day I get to see people who are not me having a tantrum outside my office, though.

Um. I don’t have anything else to say.

clogging up the tubes

Yarr! Thar be OIL in my tubes!

Oscar is leaking oil. I’ve done some research, and I *think* that tipping him on Monday night caused the oil thingie to overflow and spill down into my tubes, which is now leaking out all over the environment and warming the globe and making Al Gore cry. Apparently the tube is where oil burns OFF, not sits and has itself a little party. I posted a message on the Vino 125 boards, and I’m now anxiously refreshing the page to see if anyone has responded to my message. If oil is not supposed to be there, how do I get the oil out? I know NOTHING about cars and oils and the inner workings of my motorized toys. I don’t want Oscar to leak anymore! I don’t want oil in my tubes! AHH!

I do, however, completely covet this cake – this is awesome, even if it made me make a poop joke:

Clamb says: http://www.floatingcat.com/info.php?id=186
Kimli says: OMG !!!
Clamb says: next years cake, eh?
Kimli says: holy shit yes
Clamb says: too bad it doesn’t actually transform.
Kimli says: it does
Kimli says: it transforms into POOP
Clamb says: heh
Clamb says: that’s a one way transformation!  Making it back into truck mode would be ….. awkward

Someone left a label maker on my desk. I am going to go label EVERYTHING.

war wounds

I am really fucking angry with myself.

I had another accident last night. Like my last 17 incidents, it was a stupid freak mishap that resulted in a bloody knee, many more bruises, and worst of all – Oscar’s first dings. I haven’t even had him for a week and he’s already quite obviously MY scooter because he’s banged up in several places. It’s just some scrapes – nothing serious or really all that noticeable unless you’re close up – but I am mad at myself, at the hill I fell on, at Ed, at Oscar, at my bloody bruised knees, and anything else within my sight.

I know it was just a stupid accident and it could have happened to anyone, but it happened to me, again. Halfway up a steep hill I decided to turn around, forgetting that Oscar is at least twice as heavy as Sally, and also taller – and because the hill was really that steep, I misjudged my footing and toppled onto my left, sliding down the hill a little. I scraped up Oscar’s left side, putting gouges into the knee panel, the front fender, and the Vino badge. It’s nothing a little touch-up paint and a new badge won’t fix, and my bruises will eventually go away and my knee will scab up and I’ll look extremely sexy in short skirts – but I am so fucking mad at myself I could scream.

I’m always careful. I don’t ride like a maniac, I don’t take risks, I don’t do outlandish things or try to show off. So why do I keep falling over? Is every freak accident I have just that – a weird mishap that results in down? Why does it keep happening to me? Ed argued that every single one of my accidents were avoidable, to which I scoffed – technically, every accident is avoidable. However, I wasn’t DOING ANYTHING to cause accidents; they just happened – which I suppose is the very definition of “accident”. So, what gives? Am I really that much of a klutz? Is the universe conspiring against me? Are my 84 small accidents saving me from one big accident? Is there any way I can completely avoid wet leaves, slippery concrete, curbs, and hills? Should I just buy a suit made of bubble wrap and call it a day? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am just so mad at me. I fucking suck.

Poor Oscar. Welcome to life with Kimli!


oh look, there’s down

You are not going to believe this – seriously, are you sitting down? I sure hope so, because I wouldn’t want you to swoon with shock when I tell you my amazing news:

I fell down yesterday!

Aren’t you shocked? Aren’t you beside yourself with worry and confusion? Aren’t you incredulous that I, the epitome of grace and balance, somehow found myself sprawled out on the ground like a common clumsy peasant? Well, it’s true. I had to reset the counter on my bag and everything.

We went for a bike ride yesterday, and at some point my pant leg got caught in my pedal and I lost my balance, falling down onto the wet and muddy path. I really need to start falling on my left side, because once again I landed on my right and caused even more bruises and scrapes (the bruises from my scooter crash are still visible, more than two months after the fact). I also hit my head on a wooden fence post, literally moments after I had taken OFF my helmet. I wasn’t going fast – in fact, I had just started to pedal – but I am sore and dirty and was scolded by strangers for not wearing my helmet. At least I fell onto a dirt path and not concrete, and I barely tapped my head (I know, that doesn’t excuse me from wearing it and I am a very stupid girl and I promise I will wear my helmet at all times – even when not cycling, at this rate) but still. I’ve found down, okay? I don’t need to keep finding it – believe me, I know where it is if I ever want it again.

Last night, dirt and bruises aside, was fun. When we came home from our ride, Shan was outside with Reggie the Cat. It was a beautiful evening, so Ed asked our new neighbours if Milo the Puppy could come outside and play. We had ourselves an old fashioned Stoop Party! The 6 of us sat outside playing with the cats (Ed brought Hobble down) and the insanely adorable puppy, and during the hour or so we were outside almost every other person in our building came or went and said some hellos. Good times, and a nice end to an otherwise wet and crappy weekend. Besides, how freakin’ cute is this? I need a puppy, so’s I can put it in my basket.

It is one week until my birthday! Everyone should send me a birthday card. I never get birthday cards, so this year I think it would be excellent to receive some birthday cards. This is an official shameless plea for some love – seriously, scribble something on a piece of paper and send it to me. My mom did that for my 18th birthday, along with a note to feed the cat. I still have it. If you can do better than my mom, please send me a birthday card.

And a puppy.

Oops – an address would help, right? If you promise not to stalk me or send me anthrax, you can reach me below the cut:

Continue reading

perilous kimli redux

From the carrier of such messenger bags as “Internet Superstar” and “Intergalactic Space Hussy” comes the latest in disturbingly truthful accessories:

Heee. The numbers are attached with double-sided tape and behind a removable pocket of PVC, and there’s a pouch with additional numbers in the bag so I may always be up-to-date in my accidental ways – it has, in fact, been 29 days since I last found down. I unveiled the bag last night to much appreciation, although so far today all I’ve gotten is a blank stare of incomprehension from the yuppie standing behind me in Capers with her box of organic wheat-nut crackers and soy juice. I love my new bag. It tickles me in many fantastic ways.

This does bring up a valid question, though – what constitutes a true accident in my world? It’s not black or white at all; it’s a grey area muddled with contusions and viral strains of Manhattan-style herpes. Drawing from chapters of my own life, I’ve devised a guide of sorts – a scale for keeping track of Perilous Kimli.

1: the paper cut I gave myself on my lower lip in the car last weekend while flailing about with the ferry receipt in my hand
2: that time I gave myself a chemical burn on my left nipple
3: when I tripped on nothing and fell in Seattle after breakfast, or that one time I did the same thing in Calgary
4: tripping on beer bottles in the apartment because my backpack shifted my center of gravity

—– not an accident —–

—– definitely an accident —–

5: any of my numerous burn scars because I never did learn that the stove is hot
6: cutting my finger open on pizza sauce
7: the Very Special Burn on my left nipple
8: that time last month I found down and almost broke my camera and gave myself massive bruises to add to my other massive bruises from the accident I had three weeks prior
9: poking myself in the eyeball, causing a subconjunctival hemorrhage and being sure I was dying of eyeball herpes
10: getting a stress fracture in my right foot, and during the course of healing it, causing a new stress fracture to form in my left foot
11: taking a header on Sally and dislocating my shoulder
12: re-dislocating the same shoulder three days later

The first items on the list are minor and/or not a) leaving marks, or b) requiring a hospital/doctor visit. Below the break point are injuries that either left a mark, required a doctor, or are just so insane – see numbers 6, 7 and 10 – that they have an epic back story and will be told to my friend’s children for generations to come as an example of why they ought to stay in school and graduate.

Hopefully this list will help the average Joe determine what is and is not considered an accident in the Perilous World of Kimli.

I am either amused or scared that it was way, way too easy for me to come up with 12 separate incidents with which I could build the scale.