Canada’s traveling sex trade show (which is a trade show about sex and not a show about the sex trade) is in Vancouver next month, and I’ve decided I need to cover it in an “official” sense. Therefore, I’m prostituting my services as a blogger to anyone who wants detailed, thorough coverage of the Taboo Naughty But Nice Show from January 13-16 2011.

Why should you go with me instead of the usual people who cover things in Vancouver?

• I have 10 years of blogging experience
• I have 20 years of sex experience
• I really like to write long, overly detailed entries filled with pop culture references and needlessly graphic hyperbole
• I am not at all afraid to talk about sex
• I’ve taken part in two Taboo shows in Calgary; twice as a model and once as a booth monkey
• I went to Dildo School
• I really, really like talking about sex
• I have a unique way of seeing things
• .. coupled with a unique way of sharing what I’ve seen via my blog
• I have, like, 7 readers who would learn all about the sex show!
• One of my 2011 goals is to do more blogging in an official capacity and not just for my own amusement
• The Vancouver Opera likes my blogging, and if I can blog about opera, I should be able to handle a few cocks
• .. please, let me handle a few cocks
• Tee hee, “cocks”
• Seriously, let me cover the damn show already – people can vouch for me; I’m filthy and hilarious
• Pretty please?

.. yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve written a resume. I’m serious about this, though – I’d really like to attend the Taboo Sex Show and provide coverage marinated in my own delicious juices. If you or someone you know is looking for an experienced, busty blogger to write all about the titillating things that go on behind the velvet rope, please send them my way or to kimli at delicious juice dot com. I know new experiences can be scary, but if you just relax, go slow and unclench your sphincter, you’ll soon find that things could be totally awesome if only you’d give it a chance (and by “it”, I mean “me”).

I’m professional!

One of my more shameful Christmas traditions is my annual participation in the Christmas Eve Boxing Day sale at futureshop.com. I couldn’t think of anything less appealing to me than to go out on Boxing Day to stand in line to buy things in a seething throng of greedy humanity .. but I am not all that opposed to deals, so I compromise by being online at 5pm sharp Christmas Eve for treasure hunting. I feel kind of dirty doing it, but that doesn’t stop me from browsing through the online flyer with covetous anticipation year after year.

.. except for this year. I did take a half-hearted look through the web-only deals that’ll be available tomorrow night, but nothing remotely gave me even a semi-boner of anticipation. I don’t want or need anything badly enough to sit online with my credit card in hand, so I’m going to skip the sale this year. It helps that for the first time in three years, our iPod car stereo adapter has not been stolen or destroyed (not that there are any on sale even if I needed one), and I finally took the plunge earlier this year and upgraded to a computer that’ll keep me going for years – but I was a little surprised at how much either a) the sales this year suck, or b) I’ve finally amassed enough stuff and I simply don’t need any more.

As noble as it would be to think option B is the reason, I think the real culprit for my consumer apathy is the far more sinister c): I’ve grown up a little.

This stunning realization hit me like a ton of brick last week. We had just dropped off the gifts for our adopted family, and were basking in the afterglow on the way home. The conversation returned to its pre-delivery topic; that of homes and areas of Vancouver .. and I found myself launching into a detailed, informed dialogue about mortgages, refinancing, and interest rates. It was a shockingly adult conversation, but very far removed my usual definition of “adult conversation” – it was like listening to someone else, and it was weird .. but it didn’t feel all that out of place.

One normal conversation doesn’t a grown up make, but there have been other things as well. The whole adopted family experience really opened my eyes – here was a whole family of people who, when prompted to put together a wish list, filled it with things like dishes, PJs, pots and pans, rubber boots. Common items I don’t associate with Christmas at all – but they needed these things; stuff I take for granted on a regular basis. Who am I to ask for extravagant presents when there are people who don’t have warm clothes or food to eat? The differences in our wish lists make me feel like a complete asshat – the mom of our family is the same age. She asked for household items and warm clothes for her children. I asked for an iPod and a book about naked people. You know I’m not at all religious, but I can’t think of a non-denominational equivalent of “there but for the grace of God go I”.

So, yeah. It looks like my priorities have shifted a little bit. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I’m not at all confident they won’t shift again the next time I get a bug in my ear about the Latest Awesome Toy I Must Have .. but it’s been eye-opening, seeing what other people ask for as gifts. And, um, refinancing the mortgage. My, that was a lot of paperwork.

This update was far more depressing than I intended it to be. I’m not at all depressed or thinky – quite the opposite, I’m happy and relatively content. I’d like to get outside more, and have more fun adventures .. but that’s a goal for next year: hang out with people and do fun things. It may just be the cabin fever talking, but the thought of sitting on the couch and having a mellow night in front of the TV kind of makes me want to punch things so I think I need to go outside and Have an Adventure and soon before this becomes hazardous for my hair or wardrobe.

My inbox is blissfully quiet, so I think I’ll go wrap some more presents in porn to get myself all festive again.

.. to a deluxe apartment cubicle in the sky.

I moved again at work:

WINDOW! SILL!

My team (which is just me for the next half hour or so) swapped pods with the Sales Team, and there was a lovely window seat available. I was hesitant to take it (for reasons that will become clear in a moment), but my boss insisted .. and here I am. I am not so much excited about the window (the glare when the sun comes out will drive me insane) as I am about the triumphant return of my access to a windowsill: I can put all my crap back! Hooray!

There were some sacrifices to be made, of course. I lost my fabric walls, meaning I can’t hang things. The desk is not optimized for stolen shelving; I had to give up my hutch. I don’t have regular desk drawers, I have this bizarre Ikea abomination that requires Salad Fingers to reach anything inside. I love a challenge though, so I moved myself right in and started appropriating pieces of office equipment from other departments to build myself a Frankenhome – it’s a little precarious, but it works. Besides, they don’t call me Precarious Kimli for nothing – I am constant in danger of being buried by things. I have made peace with this.

So, why the hesitation when offered an upgrade to an excellent workspace? Because my old boss – who shall henceforth be known as ODB (as in Ol’ Dirty Boss even though he is neither old nor dirty but because it makes me laugh) – has been absorbed into my team, and as such, downgraded from his office to a cubicle in the P&C pod (which has been dubbed the Culturedome because I MUST NAME EVERYTHING). ODB has several levels and 7+ years seniority over me (like, Director vs. whatever the hell I am), so I was going to leave the prime spot for him as is fair. My boss (who needs a nickname; this is getting confusing – I was thinking Sylar not because she’s evil or has played Spock but because she’s absorbing people from other departments to become more powerful and I can’t think of a non-villainous equivalent that isn’t terribly insulting which is not my intent*) overruled my humble postulation though, and said I should just take it despite my protests. Even today, when word officially came down that he would be leaving the other team and joining mine, I offered to move so he could have the desk – but he doesn’t want it. That doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, though – he should have the fancy desk, not me. I’m already getting weird looks because I moved again; I don’t want people to think I refused ODB the good spot. I didn’t! I tried to give it to him! Oh I am wracked with guilt and caffeine. :(

It’s nice to be able to look outside, though. I can see the weather! It is raining.

*: I just lost about 20 nerd points – Ed suggested I call my boss Rogue, which is so fitting it actually kind of hurts. Also, she drives a friggin’ Rogue. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself. I’m going to go self-flagellate for a while with a Cat o’ Cat 5.

this has nothing to do with anything; i just like the picture

I almost fell over a block from work this morning. I was feeling all fine and dandy, thinking about just how naked I was going to spend my evening, when WHOOSH – I was hit with a wall of vertigo and came close to finding down. It’s been a very unusual morning, complete with a ranty man on the bus and two guys on a cherry picker outside my bedroom window (they were not there to pick cherries) – and now I’m crazy dizzy on top of everything else. I really hope this isn’t the start of something (a lot of my coworkers seem to be out sick), because I totally don’t have time for this. No time, I tell you! I’m having at you!

I spent much of last night surrounded by porn and presents. The porn is not at all unusual – my mother would be so proud – but the presents were; I was elbow-deep in holiday trimmings. A few years ago, I declared war on wrapping paper and refused to buy any more once my supply ran out. I used the last scraps of paper up a while ago, so I’ve had to rely on creative wrapping tools since then. I’m not a crazy eco-warrior hippie or anything; I just think it’s ridiculously wasteful to spend money on paper that you ultimately plan to throw away especially when there’s so much scrap paper lying around all over the place. Sure, you want your gifts to be fancy – but that doesn’t mean you have to have the traditional gift wrap festooned with gaudy, in-your-face reminders that it is the holiday season. All it takes is a little creativity, and anything at all can make a pretty present – or, in my case, a triple-X throwdown:

the title of the spread i used is "eco-rotic" - i love it when a theme comes together

I had to include the text on one of the presents; it was just too awesome to leave out:

Grabbing her fellow conversationalist’s tumid man root, Leela stuffs the groin gourd into her hot gullet. Steam rises from Rick’s member as it spurts hot love goo into Leela’s open mouth. Licking her soft lips clean, the natural beauty smiles, “The most important thing is, always remember to recycle.”

Tumid man root? Groin gourd? Hot gullet? I AM SO AROUSED!

the hat isn't on the actual present; i had a last minute change of heart about giving you an eyeful of tumid man root so early in the week

The article is from an old issue of Hustler Canada – fitting, because we all fuck in the snow up here. The winters are long and hard, and so are our men – what else is there to do?

This post was probably not safe for work. Sorry about that, unless you enjoyed it at which point Merry Christmas to you!

Seriously, don’t ever invite me over to your child’s birthday party.

Last night at The Raven (which I just can’t love – every time I go there, I am disappointed with the food and the regulars are dicks; we need a new place to hang out), I got bored and started to doodle. By the time we left, I had drawn our whole group:

the resemblance is uncanny

Starting from the top:

• Shan, wearing big earrings and reading a book
• Reilly and his chin scruff, playing the guitar
• Ed chewing on a straw
• Sharon, cheering for some reason
• The server who delivered my pizza (plus a hat, and steam)
• Me in my awesome Hello Kitty hat
• Josh and his mighty beard playing on his iPad-sized iPhone
• Miranda knitting
• Darren doing the helicopter with a piece of bacon in lieu of his penis

Oh yeah. I’m totally channeling Da Vinci up in here.

I RULE at Sunday!

Up at 9:30, mom called, 7 loaves of banana bread in the oven (two banana chocolate, three banana walnut, two plain), dishwasher going, kitchen cleaned – and it’s not even 11am. WHO’S AWESOME? I’M AWESOME!

Did you know that it’s very difficult to bake when you’ve got a near-obsessive compulsion to have clean hands? It’s true! I absolutely HATE having anything on my hands, and baking is not a tidy job. It’s why I can’t make anything that involves ingredient manipulation, like shaped cookies or pies – I’d have to touch the dough and I just can’t do that. Having sticky or dirty hands is so uncomfortable to me that it makes me panic a little, especially if there’s no easy way to get them clean. Ever see me fish ice out of my drink and rub it all over my hands? Yeah, that’s me with a desperate need to clean myself off. I’ve always had an aversion to being sticky, but I think I can pinpoint the moment it turned into a phobia: we were at Circle in Calgary, celebrating Yule. The candy was flowing fast and furious, and people had brought their children to the party. At one point in the night, we had to form a large circle and hold hands – and to my left was a small sticky child with a cold, who had, mere moments before, sneezed into his hands and wiped them off onto his pants. He was covered in crumbs and germs, and I had to hold his hand for what seemed like forever – it makes me shudder to this day; remembering the horrible sensation of icky sticky snotty child hand tightly clutching mine. It may have been a festive Yule, but a compulsion was born: clean hands, all the time, or a little piece of me dies inside.

My other phobia – and this is an actual phobia; if it happened for longer than 3 seconds every two months I would scream out loud – involves hair dryers.

I am off to shower! It’s time to finish my Giftmas shopping!

ninjamas!

We didn’t have a tree up Lastmas, because we had just moved in (one year ago today!) – but this year, it is crazy festive all up in here:

treeeeeee!

We decorated with ninjas, Olympic mascots, my Mighty Ugly hockey, and secret Domos:

slurpees are festive

It’s been a busy couple of days around here. Last night was my office party, which was a blast – I wore the Kermit Dress, it was so green. Today was the kid’s party in Stanley Park, riding the Bright Lights train in the rain. It was my first time on the train, so I had fun even though it was friggin’ cold and wet. Trains are awesome, and there was a bear on stilts:

let him love you

Tomorrow I will bake a multitude of banana breads, finish my Christmas shopping, and possibly take a nap or two. I’ve got a busy week ahead (but less crazy than this past week), but I’m looking forward to getting some work done (the raise and booze I got on Friday likely has something to do with my sudden work ethic). Then .. Friendmas! And Foodmas! And a mini vacation – I’ve got a 5-day weekend over New Years that I plan to put to good use. I don’t know what that is yet, but I have grand aspirations and nothing on my plate – the very best kind of time off!

Yeah, it’s been a little scandal-free around these parts lately – I’ve actually been too busy to get into any trouble. Also, there’s nothing really hilarious going on. Things are just super, which doesn’t make for exciting times – I’m happy, conflict-free, enjoying my life, and have 14 litres of Diet Coke in the house. I may never need to put pants on again! Except I will, because I kind of miss my friends – feels like I haven’t seen them in seventeen years. We’re having Brunchmas at Sparta on the 25th and dinner in Railtown, but I hope there will be Hanging Out before then.

she can see into your soul >:E

In the end, every single wish from the tree was fulfilled. It took six people to load up all the gifts, and multiple extremely laden trips to deliver them all to the mom, who was beside herself with tears and gratitude. I may have choked up a little. For all the stressing and worrying I did, everything came together beautifully in the end. My coworkers are awesome at giving!

:}

After tomorrow at 5pm, I can stop worrying about other people and begin to worry about MY people. The Ninja Tree will go up this weekend!

I’m a festive ho ho ho!

When I got to work this morning, there were four snowmen on my desk.

The fact that there are snowmen on my desk is not the issue. The real problem is that when I left the office last night, there were only two snowmen on my desk. They are multiplying. Hide your carrots.

Truthfully, I am not that alarmed – the snowmen were accompanied by a penguin and a bear. I still have not caught up on my sleep and am barely functioning, so it might be that all of this didn’t really happen – but I’m pretty sure it did, and I’m amused as all hell that this kind of thing is relatively normal over here.

It’s Fancy Times in the office today – there are photographers about taking pictures of the office and some of the staff. They want to update our website to show that we have a fun, vibrant, diverse place to work so certain people were asked to dress a little better than we normally do (we work in IT – all hail jeans and t-shirts [concert tees for the sysadmins; software swag tees for support]). I’m a little cranky about it, though – neither me nor my desk were asked to be a part of our new image. I am offended, because I have the most awesome desk in the company:

I suppose I can somewhat understand my personal exclusion in the pictures (even though I am the walking definition of “diverse, vibrant and fun”) – when someone tells me to “dress up a little”, I inevitably show up looking like a French prostitute circa 1882. Since we sell the internet and are not a brothel, I guess I can forgive the slight. I hate my face and the universe a little less today, so I will tell myself that I am just too awesome (and busty) to be featured on the website (instead of the usual “you can’t market Mama Cass” song and dance).

Know what I miss? I miss parties.

these were some good times

I woke up so far on the wrong side of the bed this morning I can see the Atlantic Ocean outside my window. I feel as though I should post a warning sign on my cubicle: “Stupid questions will be met with bodily harm and foul language”. I hate feeling like this – there’s nothing wrong; I just hate the universe right now. And my face. The universe, and my face.

I need sleep and a hefty shot of holiday cheer.