I lost a battle with cardboard pizza last night, and the resulting wretchedness left me utterly unable to sleep. Usually when this happens, I will force my brain to remember useless things – name all Autobots who died in the initial assault on Metroplex, name all the people I’ve kissed in alphabetical order, let’s tally up our monthly expenses in my head for fun. None of my usual tricks were working last night, so I dug even deeper and tried to remember all the incestuous relationships in the first two V.C. Andrews sagas – the Dollanganger series (Flowers in the Attic) and the Casteel series (Heaven).

Instead of lulling me to sleep before I had counted past the first sekret affair, I grew angry that I couldn’t remember the intricate details from books I had read (religiously) when I was 12. This led me to Wikipedia to read the plot synopses of 12 novels, and eventually ..

click to embiggen. also: what the fuck, lady. you were messed UP.

Here’s the legend:

• Double Line: Marriage
• Straight Line: Offspring
• Curvy Line: Siblings
• Dots: Parent to child that isn’t his
• Dash Dot: Sekret Affair
• Lightning: Rape
• Dotted Lightning: Attempt Rape
• Dotted Curve: Fake siblings (raised as brother and sister but are the products of Sekret Affairs)
• Pink Dash Dot: Love prevailing in the face of incest, real or imagined

When most people can’t sleep, they count sheep. When I can’t sleep, I create detailed Visio diagrams documenting the soap opera-style relationships of fictional characters from trashy romance horror books from the 80s. It’s not perfect – I didn’t have room to include random lovers – but all the main characters are there in all their fucked up glory.

I did eventually fall asleep, but I barely managed to drag myself away from the computer before I drafted out the Flowers in the Attic family. Maybe I’ll do that tonight. I am hardcore.

And I just realized that the family’s last name is VanVoreen, not VanBuren. Oops. I may or may not fix this.

It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers, but the instant I sat down at my desk this morning I was HIGHLY OFFENDED by not one but TWO work emails. That’s got to be a record – I went from serene to ass-marbling mad in the span of two sentences with nary a blink in between. I’m frothy with indignation and ire and indigestion from last night’s dinner, and I am going to Take a Stand!

I know that my title changes with every email I send out – it’s a running gag like the chalkboard and the couch – but my official title is “Training and Communication”.

Not “Travel Agent”.

Not “Meeting Scheduler”.

Not “She Who Orders 11×17 Paper”, “my office is too hot can you call the building people” or “can you arrange sandwiches for my department”. No, I won’t find you a hotel in Calgary and put it on my credit card. Are you mad?

I’m a big advocate of helping out and pitching in – it’s why I happily wear so many hats – but I really, really hate it when people assume I’m the office assistant. I’ve DONE my time in admin, and haven’t been anyone’s assistant in 14 years. Yes, I’m capable and efficient and on top of everything and can pull miracles out of my ass, but look at me; no one should have to have me as their right hand. Don’t get me wrong, administration is an important job that is pretty dang vital .. but I’m not it. Yes, our office assistant left the company in December, but why do you assume that I took over her duties? Why not the receptionist, or the new guy we hired? I resent the assumption that I would be thrilled to be your personal secretary. Our CEO doesn’t even have an assistant – he books his own travel and meetings. What makes you better than that?

My feathers are so ruffled. I need to go preen.

I’ve been calculating my iTunes spending manually, but someone pointed me towards SpentOnApps today – it’s a tool that combs your email folders for iTunes receipts and adds it all up for you. It’s a good idea, but not perfect – for starters, the total was off:

By my excessively anal retentive calculations, I had spent $1564.12 by 31/12/2010. If this app is truly calculating all iTunes receipts in my mailbox, the total should actually be HIGHER than my last count because it would include money spent in January. There’s always a chance that my own calculations are off – unlikely because I’m practically perfect, but there’s still a chance – but the fact I can’t rationalize the discrepancy gets my panties in a knot and makes me question the data.

Still, something like this could be really useful if:

• It pulled information directly from your iTunes account instead of your email address – not everyone files their iTunes receipts religiously like I do
• It allowed you to add multiple iTunes accounts
• You could break data up into chunks of time – day, month, quarter, year
• It smelled like cookies and involved a unicorn somehow

If you’re at all interested in your spending habits, it’s a neat tool. That being said, there’s so much irony in spending $2 on an app to track my iTunes spending I feel like I’m in a parallel universe or something.

It’s fun to do be anal!

I survived the Mayo Experiment, but AT WHAT COST?!

The remaining mayonnaise was thrown out after I made my sandwich, and I ate my meal without incident. I didn’t even have any weird dreams or intestinal problems, which speaks loudly to either the arbitrary nature of “Best Before” dates and the shadowy conspiracy behind it or my adamantium constitution. I was hoping to at least be able to see through time or something, but nothing happened except for the apparent destruction of my ability to be funny.

I made a harmless and hilarious joke on Twitter today that resulted in someone unfollowing me because I “made them feel like an asshole”, which wasn’t my intention at all. The person’s Tweet just reminded me of the song “Last Caress” by the Misfits, so I ‘sang’ a little bit of it and changed the lyrics so it was about reading blogs. That’s it! I wasn’t trying to be mean, I was being FUNNY! Or so I thought .. apparently, not everyone is up on their Danzig and now someone thinks I am a jerk.

This morning I did a Difficult Thing, and now I feel better. At least, I did until I broke the awesome carved amber ring I got in Portland last summer .. clearly, I will have to make a trip to Portland soon to find a replacement. That is the only logical answer, right?

I have a love/hate relationship with mayo. It’s not something I normally need, because the most common application around these parts is on sandwiches and we all know how I feel about those. I don’t think mayo is a vital condiment like ketchup or salsa; it’s more of a “nice to have” just in case. Mayo is tricky to keep around, though – it comes out so infrequently that I always find it’s expired when I use it next. This leads to the overkill affect when grocery shopping; buying the same item over and over again because you can’t remember if you bought it last time. This is why I currently have 7 cans of green chiles in my cupboard – we only use them when we have Costco enchiladas, and we haven’t had them in over a year. Same for creamed corn, although that gets used more frequently. And it’s just better if you don’t ask about the taco seasoning, okay? Just .. don’t.

Mayo continually escapes my grasp, though. I don’t WANT 5 jars of mayo in my food closet, so each time I buy food I think “do we really need this? probably not.” and put it back. Last time we did groceries, though, I specifically remember saying we needed mayo and made a play for the aisle. Ed stopped me, saying “nah, we totally have mayo at home! trust me!” and so I DID, since he makes sandwiches all the time and would likely know if our mayo was still good or not. I put the jar back and went on my merry way, grabbing a bottle of jerk sauce just in case we were out (we weren’t; there are three full bottles in the house and I bought another one tonight). This was barely three weeks ago; I figured any mayo we had that was still good then would likely be fine now so I again did not buy any.

I’m tired. I’m cranky. Ed is out at a fancy dinner eating foie gras and pate and pork bellies and other disgusting things that people consider gourmet instead of gross, and all I want is a simple tuna sandwich with a side of ruffled potato chips, like my dad used to make me. It’s comfort food through and through, and I eat it even though it makes me sad (it was the last meal I shared with Sasha and every time I make a tuna sandwich I expect her to come running for her share). I’ve had a really rough couple of weeks, and while it’s not lobster served on a bed of hundred dollar bills, it’s all I want right now. A tuna sandwich, a handful of potato chips, and a hug (and a pug and a MMF 3-way, but I’ll take what I can get right now).

Yeah, the mayo that Ed swore was good and fine? Expired in NOVEMBER.

Ed SUCKS.

I’m going to eat it anyway. My bra is off, and I’m not putting it back on for ANYTHING. Therefore, this is a will of sorts – if this expired mayonnaise kills me, I, Kimli of the Internet, declare that a) Ed killed me, b) you can find pictures of his wang in secret location that will auto-post itself if I go without blogging for 72 hours, c) Sasha and I would like our ashes spread somewhere awesome, and d) don’t touch my stuff.

That is all.

Anyone have a hazmat suit I can borrow?

What ISN’T in my bag? Well, not these things:

what? it's all important!

• My iPad in a Roxypop case while I wait 50 years for my replacement Portenzo case
• Cheese
• Like/Dislike stamps
• Old Navy wallet containing necessary but not vital cards and ID
• World’s Most Awesome Pill Case holding an assortment of (legal) drugs and a pair of earrings
• Peppermint oil for headaches that the above mentioned pill case cannot cure
• House key and the enormous fob that gets us into the garage, attached to a huge Hello Kitty-in-glasses keychain
• Small black H&M bag holding:
  • iPad camera attachments
  • Fisheye/Wide/Macro iPhone lenses
  • 8GB USB stick
  • Double-ended screwdriver for fixing glasses
  • Two barrettes
  • Emergency cheese
• Colour filters
• Pork piPod and headphones
• Lego man LED light
• R2D2 LED light
• Thunderbolt LED with sound!
• MAC Compact
• Hello Kitty x Tokidoki coin purse that holds money, the World’s Dirtiest Smutton, my bank card and driver’s license
• Bokeh filters
• 5 gum in Rain (spearmint)
• World’s Geekiest Keychain:
  • Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers charms
  • Gate Keychain
  • Ray gun pew pew
  • A robot
  • Rockstar Games keychain that came with the collector’s edition of Grand Theft Auto IV
  • Metal Domo-kun cellphone charm that Ali got from her trip to Japan in like 2000 and gave to me and it’s my favourite
  • An actual key! (spare key to the bucket on my Vespa)
• One bus ticket
• An expense cheque for almost $900 that American Express would appreciate me depositing very, very soon
• A pen
• Four different kinds of lip gloss
• An eyeshadow stick I’ve been meaning to return because the colour sucks
• Solid perfume from Lush (Lust)
• Keys to the Mazdabator
• Small gold Benefit bag containing:
  • Three more kinds of lip gloss
  • Three kinds of eyeliner
  • Emergency mascara
  • Tweezers
  • Perfume roller ball
  • Another barette
  • Two Delicious Juice Dot Com buttons
  • Two keys for the heart lock I have on all my bags and my work ID
  • A very round stone
  • Two 5-pence coins
  • A Toronto subway token

.. all toted around in a teal messenger bag satchel thingie I got from Bodacious on Boxing Day.

All these things tell you a story: I am afraid of being caught in the dark with dry lips and no toys, and I carry too many keychains (missing are my scooter keys, coz it’s not riding season).

No wonder my shoulder hurts all the time.

Thanks to Rick Chung, from whom I stole this idea and who carries a lot less stuff than I do (but has a way cooler USB drive).

The conversation at Sunday’s brunch was all over the place and some of it was even appropriate for all ages, but at least two refills of coffee were dedicated to genitals (and not even OUR genitals). Donna mentioned an acquaintance who has “I have a small wiener” tattoo’d on himself, and it led to an animated discussion of what the fuck: what could possibly be the reason for getting something like that permanently inked on yourself?

We came up with a number of different theories:

• He really does have a small wiener, and is being up front about it – once you see him naked, you can’t be disappointed or surprised because you were warned
• It’s ironic, because his wiener is actually huge – when you see it, you’re all “ohhh, I see what you did there”
• I bet there are women out there would totally fall for that kind of sad sack honesty, and pity sex is still sex
• There’s no such thing as bad publicity – not only did the tattoo get the four of us talking about his wiener, I then wrote about it and now tens of people all over the internet are reading about his wiener
• To incite curiosity – never have I spent so much time thinking about the dong of some random guy I’ve never met, and I am afire with a need to know what’s in there

There’s got to be a reason or two we didn’t come up with – what about you? Why do YOU think someone would tattoo “I have a small wiener” on themselves? And if you happen to be the guy with the tattoo, feel free to let us know (or you can show it to me – Donna has my email address). How many layers deep could this go? Is this the Matrix? Is the small wiener the One?

Men are so tacky. You’d never see a woman with “I have a shallow vaginal canal” tattoo’d on herself.

butts.

Yesterday was Indie I Do. Shan and I worked the front table, and it was fun. I like working Indie; there are tasty cupcakes and pretty things:

Fancy Table Times by Delovely

i would wear this on my head

these too, actually

.. okay, there really isn't a lot i wouldn't wear on my head

this sticker was on my orange. the day i end my blog, this will be the last image posted (that is not today).

awesome bus stop graffiti

.. made awesomer.

It was a good day, but I was glad to get home and get naked. I fell asleep around 9pm, and woke up 14 hours later. I didn’t really plan to get out of bed on Sunday at all, but the lure of a Mexican Scramble at Deacon’s Corner with Donna and Chris was impossible to resist and worth temporarily putting pants on for. An afternoon on the couch with iPhone Scrabble and an electric blanket, and here we are – I am okay with Monday arriving.

tired girl is tired

LOOK INTO MY EYES

Yesterday Ed and I signed our name many times over for fun and profit – but really, for actual fun and (more importantly) actual profit; not just the sarcastic e-kind.

While I am in charge of the household money (shut up, it is too a good idea), Ed is the one with his wang in the ear of the market and has a pretty good idea when interest rates are doing things. I am totally sold on my personal method of “be an ostrich”, but eventually the siren song of the ridiculously low interest rate was impossible to resist. Ed Had Conversations with our sexy mortgage broker, and now we’ve signed on for a “5-year” “variable” at “0.75%” under “prime”. I don’t know what any of that means – I didn’t graduate high school and math is hard – but I do know that when the mortgage payment comes out every single paycheque I get (boooooooooooo), I have an extra $20 left over. That may not seem like a lot because it barely buys me a handjob on Venables, but both Ed and Sexy Mortgage Man have assured me that this is a great and fanciful thing. I’m all for doing great things especially when they’re fancy, so I’m in. We saw a lawyer, signed many pieces of paper, and for some reason were handed a bunch of money!

That was the unexpected part – refinancing gets you money! Now I understand why people do it so often! Free money is pretty cool. Ed (wisely) won’t let me do anything awesome with the money like renting a cherry picker and a unicorn, but we’re going to set it aside and do a couple of home improvements we’ve both been jonesing for like real grown-ups (who are tired of non-circulating air and vacuuming). Both of those things are pretty cool, so I’m okay with not going on a crazy adventure with the free money we have for some reason. Besides, the changes we make to Sparta will increase our equity, and people tell me that’s a good thing that doesn’t at all cause constipation.

Next time, though, I get a pony.

i was in a hurry, and these were the first two socks i found.