Category Archives: everyday kimli

a is for apple

Posted in everyday kimli by

I’m tired and out of sorts, so instead of words you just get pictures.

Here are the apples I prepared last night, stuffed and ready for baking:

And again, after being in the oven for an hour or so:

They were super good, but enormous – Darren was the only one who managed to conquer his; the rest of us ate half and took home tasty leftovers. I love cooking with apples; I have a repertoire of favourite apple recipes I like to bust out in the fall and winter.

Last night’s Nerds Do Thanksgiving feast was truly epic. Everyone brought such tasty food that we all had to be rolled out the door when it was time to go home. The booze was flowing fast and furious, so I got to play Designated Driver and drive the Delica back to the north shore. It was fun, and I did a perfect parallel park on my first try in a right-hand drive vehicle. Hooray for me and my mad skillz!

Looks like I had more words in me than I thought. I’m not convinced I’m making any sense, but at least I made an effort.

Hey, did you know that I hate waiting?

potlucky

Posted in everyday kimli by

My kitchen smells delicious.

We’re doing a potluck Thanksgiving dinner today, and my contribution is mashed potatoes, roasted garlic (so people can have garlic mashed potatoes if they wish), and baked apples. The garlic has been roasting for a while now, and it smells divine. I’m about to core the apples and stuff them with my SEKRET RECIPE, then package the whole thing up to bake later. Shan is downstairs making gravy and stuffing, and Miranda is making turkey and hams and yams. There are other people bringing other things, and we shall have ourselves a feast of epic proportions. Yay for potluck! Yay for Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for pretty much everything, really.

que sera sera

Posted in everyday kimli, i'm an astronaut by

I’ve been giving some thought to what I’m going to be if when (optimism for the win) I get a new job. Being an Astronaut has soured for me, so I need to find a new code profession for what I do.

Job titles I am considering:

  • Farmer’s Daughter – Milking cows, de-egging chickens, having sex with strangers in the hay. Life could be worse.
  • Rock Flautist – Think Jethro Tull or the chick from the Polyphonic Spree. I’ve never played a flute before in my life, but the title “Rock Flautist” makes me giggle.
  • Executive Butter Churner – If I’m going to churn butter, you better believe I’m going to do it at the highest level possible
  • Secret Secret Agent – So secret, the other agents don’t know I exist!
  • Rogue ADAM Harvester – I spent the morning playing Bioshock, and frankly, those sea slugs look like they might be good on toast
  • Verbal Gymnast – Back flip! Cartwheel! Naked somersault! Handspring!
  • Professional Forum Troll – It’s a hard market to break into; there are already so many pros out there
  • Gordon Freeman – I don’t think I’ve ever wielded a crowbar, but I assume I would be excellent at it. The facial hair and silence might pose some challenges, though
  • You – I was Time’s Person of the Year for 2006. Why isn’t this on my resume yet?

I think I may need to give this some more thought.

graceful aging my ass

Posted in everyday kimli by

The Mazdabator is parked out back, unlocked. Please do not go into it and steal the 80 pounds of wood pellets we use as cat litter, or the 12 litres of Diet Coke in the back seat. Thank you.

They’re doing construction or something on the crack house down the block, and large trucks with industrial vacuums are making a heck of a lot of noise in the alley. It set our car alarm off repeatedly, so I just shut it off. There’s nothing of value in the car except for my Diet Coke, so I don’t think the car is in any danger .. but I’ll probably go rescue the bottles at some point anyway. I like Diet Coke. I don’t have a problem, I can quit any time. I’m not hurting anyone! You’re not my science textbook! Leave me alone!

I’m debating growing my hair out. I’m worried that I’m starting to look old – or at least closer to my real age than I ever have before in my life – and perhaps more hair will help coax the illusion of youth along for a while longer. Ed claims that at every point in an Asian woman’s life her age catches up with her and she looks 80 overnight. I am truly hoping that is not the case with me – I’ve really enjoyed the part of my genes that routinely has me looking 5-10 years younger than I actually am. I am too young to look 80, and I don’t own a boathouse yet. I also am far too jaded and cynical to buy into commercials for creams that will help stop the signs of aging. Fie on you, expensive creams – bright green eye shadow does the exact same thing, for much less money.

Why isn’t the postman bringing me packages of mystery? There’re at least half a dozen things I’m waiting for, probably more – I want my stuff. And Ed’s stuff, although that is not as interesting to me.

Yay! Job hunting!

25 years ago you really pissed me off

Posted in everyday kimli, i'm an astronaut by

Confidential to the woman who wouldn’t lend me a ladder as an 8-year old, saying “No dear, because I’m pregnant – there’s a baby in my belly”: My question was “do you have a ladder I could borrow because I’m locked out of my house”, not “would you like to ride bikes with me and try this wine I found”. Also, I was 8 and not 4 – I knew damn well you were pregnant, and what that meant. I needed a LADDER, not a retelling of Waiting for Baby. You suck.

This old memory resurfaced last night as I was trying to fall asleep, and I felt it really needed to be addressed. My indignation at being talked down to was almost as fresh as it was the day I left my keys in my other jacket and couldn’t get into the house after school; proof that I hold onto my grudges for WAY too long. I did eventually get into the house though, without a ladder – all it took was a screwdriver to pry the screen off the window to the den, and I crawled on through. I really fucked up the window, though. My dad wasn’t very impressed with that, even after I had tried to fix my damage with a hammer. I had to PEE! What else was I supposed to do, wait the 2+ hours until someone came home to rescue me? I loved being a latchkey kid, though. I got into so much trouble my parents never found out about in the few hours I was left to my own devices each day.

Crap and hell – I’m checking up on my references, and I can’t find one of them. Space Boss Charlie, my boss from the original Space Station, appears to be missing. Space Boss Charlie was awesome to work for and he promised to give me a super duper reference, which I still need. Even the internet is failing me on this one. This is why everyone should have an overly detailed blog, people. How am I supposed to go all Private Eye on your asses if you don’t make it easy for me?

I am waiting for UPS. They apparently have a package for me that I owe $6.78 on, and I don’t know what it is. I love presents, even if I more than likely bought it for myself. The mailman is here too, but he went next door first. I am sure he has goodies for me because I’ve gone on another online shopping spree to cheer myself up. Also, I just love getting things in the mail like the fancy rainbow styli below.

This life of leisure thing sure is boring.

 

these boots did too much walkin’

Posted in everyday kimli by

Boooo – my favourite pair of all-purpose (workin’, struttin’, posin’, whorin’) black boots have bitten the dust. They’ve pretty much entirely separated from the heel, and there are holes a-plenty. I think it’s time to send these boots to the great footwear graveyard in the sky – you served me well, first-ever pair of black sexy boots. I’ll miss you and all the times you made me limp with exhaustion and pain when I wore you to trade shows dressed up in a corset.

I have to go run errands this afternoon, and I think they may just include a trip to the shoe store to help get over the loss of my boots.

my other secret shame

Posted in everyday kimli by

I got bored. What do you think?

I think my mom has a crush! The guy who walked in on me in the shower in Victoria (he was there to replace the fridge, had to pee, and mom sent him to the bathroom not knowing I was all about the wet and naked in there) is a widower, and mom keeps talking about him and saying she’s going to give him a call to invite him for coffee or something. Cute! Go, mom! Mack up that refrigerator man!

In my time of neediness, I find myself craving the ridiculous foods that I ate when I was wee. Last night at 10:30, I had a wicked urge for a tuna sandwich so I made one up and ate it with the absolutely essential plain ruffled potato chips. Okay, that’s a relatively normal meal; one my dad used to make for me when I’d come home from school for lunch. Tasty and nostalgic, plus fun for the cats since they get most of the can of tuna from me. However, nothing I can say will ever justify what I just ate with relish (literal relish, not physical – I do have SOME standards): a potato chip sandwich.

I don’t know how or why I started eating these, but at some point in my misguided and carb-laden youth, I thought it would be a fantastic idea to stick some of the above-mentioned plain ruffled chips in a piece of white bread and chomp away. And it’s yummy. Disgusting, yes and certainly not anything I eat with any sort of regularity, but I do enjoy myself a potato chip sandwich from time to time. Like, right now. Mmm!

What disgusting things do you eat by yourself in the dark, away from prying eyes and horrified onlookers? French fries in ice cream don’t count; I eat that in public. Potato chip sandwiches though have only ever been eaten before Ed, with a face full of shame, crumbs, and more than just a little bit of internal satisfaction.

i want a pug

Posted in everyday kimli by

Ed claims to love me, but he is still frequently and heartlessly denying my pleas for a pug. I really want a pug, you see. Ed, who clearly hates me and never wants me to be happy ever again, does not want a dog because it would interfere with his book burning and baby eating activities. He is an evil nasty boy who does not love me one bit, and he makes me cry. Boo at Ed. Boooooo.

Since I do not have a pug, I have had to make do with my other pets:

I am amused at how weird people think I am for my snails.

WHY is my brother forwarding me religious-themed junk spam? I am tempted to reply with this, but that would mean acknowledging that I receive his frequent kitten-filled “I am thinking of you, forward this to 10 people to let them know you caaaaaare” messages. Which I don’t. Care, that is. I am bitter and jaded and not at all close to my family. Take that, adorable kittens!

If any of my 7 readers happen to be in the UK and stumble upon the items in the link below, I will be your best friend forever if you were to somehow obtain the two drives for me. I know I just replaced the 4 USB (1x1gb, 2x512mb, 1x128mb) drives I used to carry with one snazzy 4gb drive, but it is not shaped like an Autobot. Clearly, I must own those. They are so cool it hurts my bum.

So hey, I need a job please.

And a pug.

death and mincemeat pie

Posted in everyday kimli, relationship drama by

I’m speechless.

I don’t think I’ll ever wear them again; I just want to keep them sealed in plastic as testament that dreams can eventually come true. If nothing else though, this was a very drawn out lesson to learn – never, ever buy “dry clean only” clothing ever again. If I had known the cleaning process would take almost two years, I would have just walked on by.

I did in fact go to the government yesterday. I don’t quite know what I was expecting – outrage, disbelief, angry villagers with flaming pitchforks – but instead I got paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. It seems I have to fill out a form and send it to the Space Station, at which point they have 15 days to respond. If they don’t, I submit a complaint to the government, and eventually someone will look at my case and decide my fate. If the Space Station opts not to play nice and cough up what they apparently owe me, the process will take months. While I was asking my many questions, people were calling in about their own case files and I learned that they are just now starting to process the July claims. It is in my best interest for the Space Station not to force the government’s hand in this, but that would involve their acknowledging their mistake all along – I am not expecting this to be over and done with any time soon. I really need to find a new job. Again. Maybe I should give up trying to fit into Corporate Canada and just go work at McDonald’s again. I still have my original time card, and I think there’s a visor around here somewhere.

I have numbers to calculate, forms to fill out, envelopes to mail, and a remembrance dinner to cook. Unfortunately, all I want to do is crawl back into bed with a cat or three and be sad and defeated. It doesn’t help that I was unable to find mincemeat tarts last night, so my Dinner for Dad will be incomplete. Today is the second Deathiversary, and I am keeping up the tradition of cooking all of dad’s favourites for dinner to honour his memory. It’s mostly tasty busy work, but it does help.

I miss you, dad.