Okay, it’s been 27 hours and I’m going nuts.

I’m trying very hard to be patient and kind and a good daughter and all that crap, but it’s hard. Very, very hard. If I had internet access I could at least escape momentarily and feel connected with the rest of the world, but the installation fucked up – I’m only online right now because I’m tethering my iPhone (which is pretty frickin’ cool). I managed to go for a scooter ride earlier this afternoon, but as glorious as it was, it’s not enough. I’m lonely and my mom is driving me crazy and I’m annoyed that the internet isn’t working and GRAHHHHH. Ed was supposed to come out for the weekend so at least I could have some fun, but now he’s not. I was going to try to go home on Saturday so at least I could be at home for 1 day before going back to work, but mom apparently can’t drive herself around for THREE WEEKS – I don’t know what we’re going to do. Everything sucks. I think I’ll go have some ice cream.

I also learned that my mother is a crazier cat lady than I am. I am scared of my future.

Eyeball Clinic 6 has very poor cell reception, so I’m standing in the hallway of the hospital like some kind of junkie in need of a fix.

We’re all checked in for mom’s surgery. The hospital is much less traumatic than the time we visited Miranda (the iPhone tried to replace my badly-typed “visited” with “fisted” – that was another post altogether) last year, probably because we’re not in a traditional hospital room. This is good. It is awkward to have panic attacks.

I drove us here in mom’s car because she didn’t want to ride on the back of Lola for some reason. I hate her car – it’s small and dirty and cramped and runs like shit. It does, however, have a handicap sign in the window – so I got to park in the reserved zone and I feel all fancy. Yes, I am easily amused and also somewhat lazy.

There are a lot of old people in this waiting room.

I am a failed Asian.

Mom makes really good curry, so when I found out she had made Variety Meat Surprise for dinner I decided to have some instead of going out for food. It’s been a really long time since I’ve eaten her food, so I was looking forward to the spice and mystery.

I can’t finish my bowl – it’s just too hot. Mom admitted that she found it hot too – she added extra hobo spices for flavour – but it’s impossibly, incredibly, outrageously spicy. I love hot food, but I suck at mom’s curry :(

It’s like an intricately choreographed dance – I pull out my phone and call, he comes flying out of the house, I move my car and he slides gracefully into my vacated spot. Yes, we think we can dance. It’s like a modern performance of the Nutcracker, with the street cleaners dressed as creepy maniacal soldiers chasing us around and trying to get at our sweet sweet nut meat.

Seriously, fuck the twice-weekly street cleaning.

I have a problem. I am somewhat addicted to fun postcards, and I buy them by the bucketful. I don’t actually DO anything with them; they just sit in a drawer and go unappreciated and unloved. Clearly, this is a problem – so I need your help.

I have a significant number of interesting and dazzling things meant to be sent through the mail. Conveniently, people like getting mail – especially when it is fun mail. Why don’t we put the two together and see what happens?

If you would like to receive a saucy postcard, email me your address: kimli at delicious juice dot com; subject line: POSTCARD! – and I will send you a fun card of my choosing with a personalized message. It’s easy and fun and I promise I am not a creepy stalker of any kind (seriously, I can provide references).

The rules: there really aren’t any. I’ll send a postcard anywhere in the world – postage isn’t that expensive – just to share some love and clean out my collection. Your postcard may arrive in an envelope if I think the postal service would raise an eyebrow at the content. First come first serve until I run out of cards and/or have to take out a loan for stamps. Let me love you via international post!

I am strangely excited about this. Let me live in my fantasy world where people WANT to get random mail from a stranger, okay?

Ed and I didn’t really exchange birthday gifts this year – the San Francisco trip was our mutual present – but I cheated and got him some XBox Live points and he gave me a Chapters gift card. There wasn’t anything urgent in my Must Have book list, so I held onto the card for a while.

Today has been somewhat of a crappy day, so I thought maybe I would buy myself some books online to cheer myself up. I looked through the latest releases (nothing interesting), searched for new books on my favourite topics (I already own all the books on video games and scooters), and lastly looked to see if my favourite art book publisher had any exciting new offerings.

Oh, my.

yes please

.. this book, plus Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, is being packaged and sent to my house as we speak.

Express.

With laminated pages.

Thanks for the birthday present, Ed!

I hate it when my aim is off. On the other hand, my shoulder hair will have great volume and shine!

There’s a hobo standing outside my building, handing out coupons. Normally people just take the coupon and move on, but this guy is *really* *excited* about them – he’s ambushing people when they get close, and presenting the coupon with a flourish. When he’s turned down, he cries and wails saying “WHY WON’T ANYONE TAKE MY COUPONS?! WHYYYYY?!” He is a melodramatic hobo, to be sure. I think his approach and hobo-manner is frightening some people off, because the coupon is a pretty decent one – buy a sub at Quiznos and get a free combo upgrade. They’re attempting to lure customers in, because a fancy new place opened up next door. OOH – what if the new place gets their own Coupon Hobo?! There could be Hobo Wars right outside my office! The action! The adventure! The startling aromas and secret hobo spices! Awesome.

When Shan and I were at Target (which is endlessly fascinating to us Canadians) last Saturday, I bought a cute little top with crazy embroidery and sparkles. It’s from their Woodstock collection, which is marketed to those who haven’t the faintest idea what Woodstock is. As I was paying for my exciting American goods, the checkout lady went on a friendly rant – all the clothes are wrong because Woodstock happened in 1967, not 1969. She knows this because she got married in 1969, and her husband went to Woodstock in 1967, before they met. Everything that says Woodstock happened in 1969 is wrong, including the cute pink shirt I was buying. It’s too bad that the entire universe has the date mixed up, but at least she could set ME straight. I dodged a bullet there – how embarrassing, thinking that Woodstock happened in 1969 when it was really in 1967.

happy canada day!

Hooray for mid-week holidays! Sleeping in on a Wednesday is a luxury I could get very used to.

I am celebrating Canada Day by not wearing any pants. I started celebrating early – 5pm on Monday – and will see just how long I can go. Celebrate with me! Take off those pants for the good of Canada!

I am not sure what the rest of the day will bring, but I am sure it will be excellent.

Down with pants!

Up with Canada!

How embarrassing for me: I was trying for Cleopatra as played by Elizabeth Taylor, but ended up with Cleopatra as historically accurate. Sexy time fail!

At 2am, our neighbourhood was apparently swarmed by small children from the Dominican Republic. They were having a rambunctious Stick and Tire Race, with the finish line being our driver side car door. The game came to an abrupt end when our alarm went off, and the children – undoubtedly led by Aquaman – scattered into the dark night; their playthings cast aside in their haste to escape.

In normal words, someone was bored last night and rolled a tire into our car door. It didn’t dent, but it left a nasty mark and that was able to mostly scrub out, but it’ll take some work to get out the remainder. Yes, it could be a lot worse – but it really fucking sucks that it happened at all. Ed woke up in a bad mood as it is, and this just made things a whole lot crappier. He’s making noise about wanting to give up on the neighbourhood and just move, which fills me with a bit of dread – I *like* our apartment. I *like* living with Josh and Shan so close by. I don’t really want to move; I have a lot of stuff. Hopefully things will be better this evening – it’s Fake Friday, and it’s too nice outside to be angry at Aquaman (even if he IS a fucking dick).

Today is the day my iPhone issues are supposed to be resolved. Rogers is currently calling around to find me a phone, which is nice – but the bigger issue is the whole “you can switch for free, honest!” thing. I’ll let you know how it all goes down. I’m still hoping for a peaceful and inexpensive resolution, but just in case, I have a switchblade that turns into a comb stuffed into my boot.