Category Archives: everyday kimli

under pressure

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I bought an Instant Pot right before Christmas, but it’s still in the box because I am afraid of it.

I do intend to use it, but I’m having trouble deciding what I want to make. I’ve scoured the internet for recipes and suggestions, but I’m finding a lot of “omg best ever” lists full of stuff I would never eat. I’m a picky eater, but mostly I don’t want to have to go out and buy a whole bunch of ingredients for something I might not enjoy. Also, that whole “stuff I would never eat” thing, no matter how many moms swear that it’s the best thing they’ve ever made in their entire lives omg aren’t we so healthy and twee, such as:

  • Creamy Dairy-Free Potato and Kale Soup: If the word “creamy” is right in the title, don’t then tell me it’s “dairy-free” like that’s a good thing. If I want a creamy soup, cream better be an ingredient. Chickpea water is not cream. Also, kale is overrated and terrible. Hard pass on this recipe.
  • Lentil Tacos: no. For starters, I thought lentils were just pretentious beans. I looked it up, and it turns out “The lentil (Lens culinaris) is an edible pulse.”. WHAT. I’m not eating a pulse. If I want tacos, I will make them the way god intended: STUFFED FULL OF MEATS
  • Butternut Squash Risotto: I am not a fan of risotto, because I am Asian and rice should never be mushy. Also, this recipe is both vegan and gluten-free and that makes me cranky.
  • Paleo Butternut Squash Soup: So, is it like, law that all instant pot recipes have to use squash? I’ve been squash-shy ever since the Pumpkin Pie Blizzard incident of ’08. If I had known I was required to be some sort of squash-loving mega mom to own an Instant Pot, I probably would have passed.

The food I cook at home usually involves a lot of cheese, because cheese is life. Where does the cheese go in a squash soup? Probably nowhere. I’m sure I’ll find something to make that sounds like something we’d eat, but in the meantime, I’m clicking through a lot of internet and making stink-face at all the squash, kale, quinoa, and icky things I want nothing to do with.

I AM AN ADULT.

PS: “Instant Pot” would be a good name for a weed store.

the 73 elephants in the room

Posted in angst, everyday kimli by

First, the formalities: Happy New Year, everyone! 2016 was rough, and not all of us made it. I hope 2017 brings you nothing but happiness, love, and no pants!

Okay, hi. I set up several goals-not-resolutions for myself for 2017. Most of these are fairly obvious: travel more, don’t wear pants, continue not going A2M – but I’m also hoping to write more this year. I spent Q4 2016 in a dank haze, and I’m using the new year to throw off the shackles of apathy and get back into the game (the game in this case is more words on the internet). I’m off to a bad start, as I had excellent intentions of writing yesterday .. but by the time we got home from the traditional NYE party in Seattle, I was too tired to do more than be horizontal and weighed down by cats. It was lovely, but warm. 33 pounds of cat is a lot of potato.

This isn’t just a generic “gonna write more, pinky swear” post – I actually have something to get off my (ample, fabulous) chest: internet, I have a problem. I have a problem with collections.

I’ve been doing some soul searching lately (because what else can you do when you are pinned down and also outside there is snow) and thinking about stuff – literally, as in all the stuff in my house. With the exception of the appliances, Ed, and myself, there is not a single one of anything in here: every single thing I own is multiplied far beyond what any one person actually needs. Now, some of this is basically a hobby: it’s fun to collect things and have awesome stuff everywhere you look. Most people have a collection of one or two things they’re really into: model cars, rare import CDs, human teeth, fancy spoons that are not meant to be used for snorting coke, etc. It’s fun! It’s a hobby! It’s a problem!

I do not regret any of my collections. Unfortunately, that’s the problem: I collect collections. If I like something, I have to have it ALL. I have to amass as much as possible of whatever it is that I like. It goes far beyond my Optimus Prime collection or my wall of pop culture figures, too. It’s literally everything, and it can be traced to a specific period in my life when I was really into that thing. Here are just a few of the things I have way too fucking much of because I was super into it and started a collection without being aware of what I was doing:

  • Yarn and Fabric: I went mad for knitting and sewing at two different periods in my life. I have a huge stash of fabric that I’ll probably never use now, because I don’t have anywhere to sew (or the patience, or the skill)
  • Cosmetics: when I decided to start wearing makeup, I binged. There is enough makeup in my bathroom to give an army of makeovers. It’s more than I’ll ever use in my lifetime, especially since my favourites keep evolving (and when I like a product, I stockpile it)
  • Lapel Pins: I like these right now, so I have dozens of them on my wall
  • Technology: I have a stack of tablets and devices on my desk. A literal stack. Why? Why do I have all these?
  • Nintendo DS Games: I used to buy almost every DS game that was released. There’s a large collection of games in a box in the living room.
  • Bags: Not just purses, either: small wallets, makeup bags, clutches – lots of them.
  • Hello Kitty phone charms: I have a lockbox full of these that probably number in the hundreds
  • LEGO: I have hundreds of minifigs, because I liked minifigs for a long time. Even now I still buy them, because I love blind items (and a small part of me really wants to have 17 different LEGO pirates on hand)
  • Wrap Bracelets: I only have two wrists. I probably didn’t need 25 of these.
  • Portable Batteries: I like always having power, so now I have power upon power upon fire hazards.

This is just the stuff I can see in my room; there’s more in the house. I have a lot of dresses. I don’t need to buy every pretty dress I see, but I do. Food? Yep. Remember my chocolate hoarding? That’s part of it. In fact, the food collecting is even more problematic, because it doesn’t get eaten. I’ve got a half dozen bars I brought home from the UK several trips ago in the freezer, just in case there’s a shortbread emergency. YOU NEVER KNOW (right mom?).

It’s kind of eye-opening to realize the extent of my problem. I’m sure it was obvious to others, but I’m kind of slow sometimes. And I hate to admit it, but I take after my mother in this. She doesn’t collect, but she’s a bargain hunter: if something is on sale, she’ll buy 80 of them because it was a good deal. Sometimes it’s handy to have that much toilet paper on hand, but when it starts piling up in the living room and blocking the TV, it’s probably a problem.

So, now that I know I have a problem and being pretty confident that I am not trying to now collect problems, what am I going to do about it?

This isn’t any sort of resolution or anything, because the first step in all of this is simply being aware of what I’m doing. I already know the why, so now we concentrate on stemming the tide. There are some things I can get rid of by donating or recycling. I’m not going to disassemble my collections, but I won’t be adding to them (or starting new ones) if I can help it. I’ll never be any sort of crazy minimalist, but I can at least make things easier to manage for myself (and probably relieve Ed of that 15-year-long headache he has when he thinks about all of the shit I own).

There’s a trendy Japanese method of decluttering that has you hold each item and, if it no longer brings you joy, discarding it. It’s a noble idea, but one that won’t work for me for several reasons:

  • Even if I hold each item for just one second to determine joy, the sheer volume of stuff in my house makes it a 50-year task
  • I’m ridiculous, and almost everything brings me joy
  • I would inevitably start discarding things that should probably be kept. “Property taxes do not bring me joy. Throw it out! I don’t like it when Ed wears pants. Out they go! The stove brings me no joy BE GONE!”

I can do this, though. Perhaps I will collect free space and empty drawers.

i feel fantastic and i’m still alive

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One of those is a lie.

Anyway, hi. I’m still alive. I’m still sorta-but-not-officially taking a break from the following things:

  • Sleep
  • Eating on a regular schedule
  • Going outside
  • Wearing pants (okay this one is official)
  • Not eating food aerosol form
  • Substance D abuse
  • No, that wasn’t a coy nickname for Diet Coke
  • Getting new tattoos

This post isn’t an “oops, sorry I’ve been silent” one, though – it’s basically a shopping list of things I want to do next year posted somewhere I won’t forget. Yep, exciting stuff. Admit it, you missed me.

Yayoi Kusama: Infinity Mirrors
Seattle Art Museum
June 30 – September 10, 2017

Yayoi Kusama: My Eternal Soul
Tokyo National Art Gallery
February 22 – May 22, 2017

Secret Cinema: Moulin Rouge
London
February 14 – April 30, 2017

Hamilton
London
November 2017 – ??

Right. As you were, then. Hoping to resume soon, because I need an outlet to air all my (many, many) problems.

noseworm

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Everyone’s experienced the earworm: when a song or melody is stuck in your head and endlessly repeating no matter what you do to shake it out. They’re annoying, but usually disappear once you stop focusing on the fact that you’ve had three bars of the Thong Song echoing in your head for close to 9 hours.

I am experiencing an earworm, but in my nose. Last night before bed, I smelled cigarette smoke. This isn’t unusual; our neighbours smoke and there are benches outside our bedroom window where people like to gather and argue/fight/laugh/sing/smoke/break up at all hours of the day. However, the smoke smell didn’t go away. It was inside my nose, and everything smelled like smoke. I really hate the smell of cigarettes, so I was equal parts annoyed and grossed out that everything reeked. It kept me awake, and when I did eventually drift off, the smell would irritate my nose again and I’d wake up. I figure I got maybe two hours of broken sleep throughout the entire night, and my nose and throat feel raw. When I got out of bed to start my day, I could still smell it – so I asked Ed, who smelled nothing and confirmed there was fresh air coming in from the window. The smell is all in my head (nose), which fucking sucks. It stinks. I’ve tried everything to get the cigarette smell out of my nose, including blowing my nose, using peppermint oil, lighting a scented candle, and burying my face in a cat. Nothing has helped. Everything stinks.

In other news, I am devastated by the results of the US election and fear for the future. All of last week was brutal, from the pre-election anxiety to the awful results rolling in and the terrible aftermath that followed (and is still happening). I wallowed in tears for days, before resolving that I was done with fear: it’s time to fight. I donated to Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, and the Centre for Reproductive Rights, and will do so again once I start getting paid. I wear a safety pin, regardless of how useless some vocal hetero cis white men think it is. I haven’t encountered any open hate because I don’t really leave the house – but when I do, I am paying attention. I don’t really care what is said or done to me, but I will gladly step in and fight for others – I am short, but I have a fierce glare and ample vocabulary and I am not afraid to use either.

It is also extremely disheartening to realize that you yourself are a target: I am a non-white, queer-leaning, overweight, unattractive woman of advanced age. In Gilead, I’d be sent to the Colonies. I feel guilty for my unwoman status and associated worry though, because others have it so much worse. I don’t know what to do with either the guilt or the fear, so I’ll just fight. Fighting is good.

My new job is going well. I’m having a lot of anxiety because I don’t know everything yet, and the fact that it’s been less than two weeks is not an acceptable excuse for my ignorance. I’m learning as fast as I can, but I’m terrified that I might be disappointing people. The additional anxiety is not doing me any favours, that’s for sure.

In “look, we’re grownups” news, Ed and I had three of the closets in our condo redone. We now have an actual coat closet with ample shoe storage, an entire storage system in the walk-in closet in my office, and bedroom closets that don’t make me want to kill people. The work was done crazy fast and was all built to spec, and we’re very happy with the home improvementing. It feels a little silly to be so very excited about well-organized closets, but goddamn they were terrible. And now they’re not! We keep opening the doors and marvelling at the non-chaos within. Things are on SHELVES. You can actually walk into the walk-in closet. Frankly, it’s amazing. Everyone should come over and hang out in my closets with me.

We’re off to Seattle this weekend to see friends and have some fun. I am looking forward to this, because November has been so rough. I would like some Good Times.

.. dumps like a truck, truck, truck
thighs like what, what, what
all night long
let me see that thong

i should know better

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That thing when you read the comments and then get super sad at the entire internet:

Today I was chatting with my new co-workers, and the topic of video games came up (I think I brought it up, because me). Turns out I work with someone who used to be a competitive Counter-Strike player back in the day, so we traded war stories and videos. He shared a video of a match from 2001, and I dug up the Q3 1v1 finals from QuakeCon 2004, which someone had posted on YouTube. The game was between Zero4 and czm, and featured Ali and myself doing commentary.

QuakeCon was 12 years ago. The video was uploaded three years ago. And yet .. the comments.

  • “MY GOD BITCH SHUT UP!!!” – four months ago
  • “Wow .. that bitches [sic] voice and speed is fucking frustrating. Nobody needs that.”
  • “Females? In MY Quake?!” – two weeks ago
  • “The girls make mistakes!” “Yep, she makes sound” – a year ago
  • “fucking annoying woman!!!” – 6 months ago
  • “why dat girl talk so much”
  • “lol, females”
  • “Lousy commentary, they say everything that’s happening, we can fucking see that it’s not a radio broadcast” (actually, in 2004, this WAS a radio broadcast. Not everyone was able to log into the server to watch the game, and video streaming was not a thing back then. so .. yeah. we described the action.)
  • “It’s pretty obvious that the girls don’t know much about the game or duelling, but what do you expect?”
  • “does she ever breathe?!” (this one made me laugh – my casting was fast as hell, and I didn’t breathe often)

It’s more than a decade later, and tiny little manboys are still yelling that women have no place in their video game worlds. I loved casting, and was super proud of what I did. I miss it like hell, but I cannot – will not – subject myself to the new world of video streaming. I remember what the comments were like, and I’m not going to let it happen again. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different, though. And it’s crazy disheartening to find people trashing things you did years and years ago, all because you dared be a woman in a place where boys play.

newb

Posted in everyday kimli, i'm an astronaut by

Today is the second day at my new job. I spent most of yesterday getting myself set up: credentials for ten thousand new tools, a whole heap of docs to read and tear apart in my head, and being totally overwhelmed by all the things I don’t know. Now that I’ve started, the frustration at not knowing everything already has set in – I feel dumb, and I hate feeling dumb. I want to be useful NOW. Why haven’t we invented Matrix-like knowledge transfer yet?

I gave myself a tour of the office yesterday, noting where the essentials were. Diet Coke can be accessed at my feet, in the kitchen, or in an emergency, across the street at the gas station. Ice is found both in the freezer, and in the ice machine I set up in the kitchen last week. Again, in an emergency, ice is available at the gas station. Except for the constant danger of explosions, living across the street from a gas station is quite handy.

There are three office cats, all of whom are varying degrees of a pain in the ass. My office mate wears too many clothes and listens to a lot of screaming dragon metal, which is kinda weird. Luckily, I have a door that can be closed when his music/constant state of dress get to be too much.

Snacks are plentiful and lunch is provided as long as there are leftovers in the fridge. If not, my options are gas station sandwiches or McDonald’s. When the weather is less gross, I’ll be able to get lunch from anywhere within a 20-minute scooting distance, so I can really get anything depending on my laziness level.

So far, the most difficult part of this whole transition (other than the fact that I don’t know a damn thing about anything) is not being audibly gleeful that I do not have to go outside in the cold November rain.

Okay, back to learnin’.

it looked this neat for about 10 minutes

it looked this tidy for about 10 whole minutes

tantrum dance

Posted in everyday kimli by

I can’t handle very much at the moment. So far today I have thrown my hands up in the air and yelled “I QUIT” for the following reasons:

  • I accidently threw out a co-worker’s lunch and I feel terrible about it
  • There were 18 points of failure in the information I just audited
  • The English Muffin on my desk looked like a chocolate chip cookie all day, but wasn’t ever a cookie
  • I’m hungry, but not for cold non-cookie English Muffins
  • WestJet still has not addressed my claim regarding the infamous flight fiasco
  • The announcement that my last day at Hootsuite will be October 28th has officially gone out
  • Someone created a service account without a paper trail
  • I really want to be at home, playing Portal 2 in my underwear

So many tantrums. Everybody cut loose!

these are their stories

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DUN DUN

Homicide: “Cause of death was clearly blunt force trauma, but we can’t find the murder weapon.”

Forensics: “Body’s been here for at least 4 hours. Probably died around 4pm.”

Officer: “We’ve interviewed everyone in the house, no one saw anything. The body was discovered in the basement when the host went down to get more wine.”

Detective: “Okay, tell me what you were doing tonight and how you came across the body.”

Me: “We were having a dinner party with some friends. We had finished up dinner and moved into the den to play some board games. We ran out of wine at one point, so my husband went downstairs to get more and that’s when he found the body.”

Detective: “Do you know the victim?”

Me: “Only in passing. He lives in the building, but I don’t know his name.”

Detective: “The security tapes show that he followed you into the parkade with his car this morning. Do you remember seeing him?”

Me: “That was him? I know a car followed me into the parkade – which is against the rules – but I didn’t know who it was. I stopped my car so he couldn’t get in, but he drove around me honking and gave me the finger.”

Detective: “Interesting. Okay, we’ll be in touch. In the meantime, here’s my card – call me if you think of anything else.”

Me: “I will. Thank you, detective.”

Detective: “By the way, it smells great in here. What did you serve for dinner?”

Me: “Oh, thank you. We had Murder Ham!”

DUN DUN

2778 words about ireland

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I KNEW there was something I was forgetting to do – write about the trip. I’ve been incredibly scattered (more so than usual) since we got home, for reasons I am vaguebooking about. All will become clear soon, but in the meantime: hey, we went to Ireland!

Our flight(s) there were long but uneventful, with the exception of some EXTREME TURBULENCE between Toronto and St. John’s. Seriously, I have never experienced turbulence like that. It was fucking terrifying. People screamed, like in movies! Me, I almost ripped the back off the seat in front of me because I was gripping it so hard. Scary stuff. F——, would not turbule again.

We arrived into the Dublin airport just after 7am local time on Friday morning, and made our way through customs. Because of the early hour it was easy to grab a cab – lucky for us, since there was a bus strike going on and options into the city were limited. We were at the door of our AirBnB around 8:20am, perfectly on time.

Continue reading →

hydroxypropyl beta-cyclodextrin

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My leg has no odor.

This morning while talking to Ed, I was distracted by all the pretty lights and colours and shiny things. My morning routine had been derailed by a variety of Events, and I was scrambling hard to catch up and head into the office to collect my new iPhone work really really hard.

Also, I had dry skin.

I grabbed what I thought was the spray-on moisturizer that I use in emergency situations, and applied it liberally to my leg. At some point, it dawned on me that the bottle was blue instead of the usual yellow, and instead of being moistened, any scent my leg may have had had been neutralized.

I coated my left leg in fucking Febreze.

I do not like the smell of Febreze.

WHY IS LIFE SO HARD