Category Archives: everyday kimli

selfie

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Today I bought a Selfie Pole.

Ed and I had seen people with these all around Europe, and we were both confused and irritated on account of being hit in the head by some dumb girl taking selfies atop the Eiffel Tower. Still, I was intrigued at the possibilities of the idea, and today when I stumbled upon The Selfie Guru, I thought “hey let’s do this” – so I ordered one.

And an hour later, I had it in my hands! Turns out one of the people behind Selfie Guru works for the same company I do, so when I entered my work address to be the shipping address, she just looked me up. All things should be like this, because INSTANT GRATIFICATION. Thanks, Stephanie!

I’m waiting for the Bluetooth remotes to come in (my plans for this monopod do not allow for timers), but in the meantime I tried several remote control methods at home. First up was the Belkin Live Action Remote, which was incredibly frustrating. I bought the remote some time ago, but never really used it because a) it only works with the Belkin Live Action app which sucks so much I can’t even form words to express my disdain and b) the app is so, so, so bad that it has no option to switch to a front camera, which kind of negates the whole “selfie” aspect of this experiment. After I burned the remote in a fire, I remembered that I have a Pebble that can do all kinds of neat things like tell the time and play music and control most of the things in my house. I researched, and sure enough there are several Pebble apps that’ll let you take pictures. Yay! I downloaded one called PebbleCam, and set it all up. For being the future, it works pretty well. You can’t really wear the watch while using the app and the pole, because you’d need three hands – but if you remove the watch from your wrist, you’re good to go. You can even switch between front and rear camera, turn on the flash, set a timer, and more. You still can’t use the default (or other) camera app, but at least it’s miles better than Belkin’s horror.

Using the monopod, my Pebble, and my iPhone, I took some invasive pictures of my cats:

a hot and frightened hobbes (rear cam)

a hot and frightened hobbes (rear cam)

photo 2 (1)

a hot and pissed off lemon (front cam)

I amused myself by tormenting the cats for a while, then used the selflie pole to take some actual selfies (which you don’t get to see because I may have been mostly nude). Works great!

And then I realized my destiny.

See, I’ve been online for a very, very, very long time. In all my life spent on BBSes and the STS and IRC and Twitter and beyond, I skipped one rite of passage in particular – that of nude pictures. I often stood on my tiny high horse and said that naked pictures were stupid, but my scorn was actually hiding the embarrassing truth: my boobs were too big and my arms were too short to take any topless pictures. Oh, I wanted to – I have a great rack, remember – but there was literally no way for me to take a decent naked picture that would encompass all my bodacious glory.

UNTIL NOW. 

I am going to take SO MANY BOOB PICTURES. I have decades of lost time to make up for.

Thanks, Selfie Guru!

badurday

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Today sucked.

Now that we’re back from vacation and settled into a routine, I’ve started looking around for my birthday kitten (that you were all around to witness Ed agreeing to). I found three adorable kittens that are exactly what I’m looking for (criteria: kitten, female, calico, adorable), and sent in applications for viewing. Two of the three are at an SPCA Education Centre, so today we drove 8 million miles away from civilization and into Port Coquitlam to meet the kittens.

I really wish I hadn’t done that, because of course I fell head over heels in love with a tiny calico currently named Ariel 19. I would have taken her home with me then and there, but there were complications – both Ariel 19 and her sister, Cinderella 21 (I have no idea, don’t ask), had recently recovered from kitten colds and were marked as best suited to being the only cat in a household. We do have Hobbes and Lemon to worry about, so I asked what the deal was. Turns out that the whole litter had Feline Calicivirus (calici for short and incidentally how people who don’t know how to spell “Khaleesi” enter it into Google) and even through they were over their colds, they could shed the virus for up to 6 months afterward. The SPCA told me this on Friday afternoon, so I did some research: everything I read suggested that if your cats are healthy, there’s nothing to worry about. Our cats are indoor only and healthy and could use a little exercise in the form of kitten chases, so I forged ahead with the meeting.

Ed obviously wasn’t thrilled with the idea of potentially introducing a virus to our cats, so I suggested he call our vet and ask questions. As I assumed what I read online would be what the vet said to Ed, I suited up and went into the cat area to meet the kittens in meat space. Both kittens were delighted to have a person around, and they started purring and chirping as soon as I said hello: Ariel was gorgeous and adorable and loved being held and she reminded me so much of Sasha that there were waterworks .. I could easily see Ariel in our home (albeit with a less dumb name), and in my head she was already mine.

You can probably guess where this is going based on the title, but the vet did NOT say what I thought she would say. Ultimately it was up to us, but she recommended seeing both Hobbes and Lemon for updated shots first, then waiting another 10 days before introducing the kitten so the vaccines had time to take hold .. and beyond that, she didn’t think it was a good idea. As well, the SPCA doesn’t hold animals, so the vet visits and waiting period wasn’t in the realm of possibility (and other people were inquiring about Ariel while I was falling in love with her) – I had to withdraw my application, and it broke my heart a little.

I know I have to think about H&L first, but .. she was so, so sweet. Everyone has assured me that it’s Kitten Season and I’ll be able to find and love all the kittens I want, I just can’t have *this* one. And I know it’s for the best and that someone will adopt her and love her and she’ll be adored and happy .. but right now really sucks. I can’t stop thinking about her ridiculous ears and the sound of her purring. There’ve been a lot of tears today.

*sigh*

*sigh*

settling in

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After a month spent galavanting around Europe like someone deep in the throes of a mid-life crisis, I finally returned home and started my new job this past Monday. So far so good, but there are definitely things I have to get used to (like having direct deposit again! you have no idea how much you take magic money for granted until you’re forced to go to an actual bank every two weeks). Everyone I’ve met has been really nice/disturbingly excited to hear I’m a tech writer, and it’s been great seeing a lot of my former coworkers in the same place (I’ve already resumed my usual method of greeting one guy in particular by walking up and kicking him).

So, what’s the low down?

The Good:

  • Fun people, fun product, tons of potential to get all up in here doing all kinds of different things
  • Free parking! I was super worried about how I was going to get to the office – it’s a two-bus minimum with no parking lots nearby – but there’s free parking under the building! That is amazing, and I GET TO SCOOT TO WORK!
  • I sit two seats down from a pug:
PUG omg so cute and puggy

PUG omg so cute and puggy and also there’s my foot

  • I have nested nicely, and my desk is tastefully ridiculous
  • Seriously, people get *really* excited when I tell them what I do and what team I’m on. I wonder if I should worry.

The Confusing

  • I desperately hate not knowing things, and as this is my third day on the job, I don’t know a damn thing. I am impatient to become some sort of expert in something, and will be frustrated with myself until that happens.
  • I am a perpetual One-Off, so I’m not getting the traditional onboarding experience .. because there’s no one I can shadow to absorb knowledge.
  • I can’t find a fridge (but I brought my own, so I’m good)
  • NO ICE CUBES ANYWHERE
  • I don’t know where to pick up my Mandatory Work Puppy
  • I have no walls! No one has any walls. How do I decorate things if I have no walls?
  • After a month in Europe, I think I forget how to do words
  • How can I keep my drink cold if there is no ice? :(
  • Open concept offices are kinda loud

The Bad

  • Sitting this close to a pug that is not mine is pure torture
  • Fluorescent lights are the devil
  • WHERE ARE THE ICE CUBES

I have high hopes for doing good stuff here .. fingers are crossed!

functional!

functional!

murder by death

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What do all of these things have in common?

oxford
bee
brighton
following this advice is death
mona lisa = death
portobello market
portobello market
giant dragon
brighton
portobello market
oxford
he ate my face
oxford
giant dragon
dentist office
oxford
portobello market
greenwich
poppies in oxford
across the thames
brighton bee
fat squirrel
portobello market
brighton bee
green park
killer bug

They all tried to KILL ME DEAD in London.

I’ve never had any problems with breathing or using my lungs – they’ve always been top notch. Air goes in, air goes out. I have a system, and it’s never failed me before.

At night, while trying to sleep, I noticed my chest rattling a little like it does at the tail end of a cold. I didn’t have a cold or cough, so I thought maybe it was the pollution in the air and tried to ignore it. After all, everything was fine! Nothing to worry about!

.. except for that Thursday night I COULDN’T BREATHE. I couldn’t take a full breath, and when I lay down on the bed, my chest would rattle like a car 20 years past the replacement date. I wasn’t getting enough air, the sound coming from my air hole was terrifying, and my lungs were full of fluid. I tried multiple times to relax and ignore it, but the instant I was horizontal, the game began again: no breathing. Bad noises. Fluid. Panic.

After an hour of this, I woke Ed up. I was in full blown freak out, and couldn’t calm down (which didn’t help the breathing thing). I didn’t necessarily think that Ed was going to be able to dry up all the extra fluid in my lungs, but it helped to have someone else awake and making sure I was still alive. He could hear my chest rattle from across the room, and we tried a number of different things to ease the pressure on my chest .. no go. Eventually, we drugged me up with Benedryl, which eased the symptoms somewhat and I passed out. I managed to sleep until morning, but the same can’t be said for Ed who stayed up all night to make sure I didn’t stop breathing. Aww!

The following day, everything seemed fine. I knew something was going on though, and Heather and Renee forced me to track down a doctor. I’ve never had to look for a doctor overseas, and was pretty resistant to the idea – the only way they could get me to go was to promise I could visit the Greenwich Market after my lungs were looked at. We walked all over Greenwich trying to find a pharmacist (who couldn’t help me because I’ve never had an inhaler or any kind of breathing issues before) and eventually a clinic of sorts – a Polish medical office that was the most Polish thing ever. The doctor I saw had to ask me to repeat my air saga multiple times, because I talked too fast and had a weird accent. She listened to me breathe for a long time, but couldn’t hear anything because my lungs are fucking jerks – but I was obviously in distress, so she wrote me a prescription for an inhaler and sent me to the pharmacy. Success! The visit cost me £70, which wasn’t nearly as bad as I had feared (plus we have insurance so I’ll get reimbursed eventually), and the inhaler was £8. I would pay that much to be able to breathe.

Things never got nearly as bad as that night I had to wake Ed up, but I still needed to use the inhaler a bunch of times throughout the trip. This was my first trip to London in the summer, and all those wildflower gardens I love so much generate an IMPERIAL SHIT TONNE of pollen. Throw in the increased air pollution, and .. Kimli can’t breathe. Hooray! I got asthma for my birthday! Second worst present ever.

I was hoping that once I got home to Vancouver I’d be free from breathing problems, but yesterday I had to use the inhaler: I couldn’t breathe. And umm I coughed up pink stuff in the shower. I should *probably* go to the doctor to find out what the fuck .. but I survived London trying to kill me, just as Ed survived a death attempt by the Eiffel Tower (heatstroke is a biiiiiiiitch).

I’m still going back to London, though. Pollen will not stop me from moving there.

Oh, and the Mona Lisa tried to kill me with crowds of idiots taking selfies – I was getting crushed and panicky, and had to be rescued by museum staff. And in the Tate, an old lady tried to glare me to death when she thought I was trying to take a free seat at the counter. I wasn’t – I just wanted to take a picture of the epic view. I’m a survivor!

(s)pots of tea

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Europe makes me buy tea towels. I don’t drink tea, I don’t eat tea cakes or tiny sandwiches, I’ve never held or been to a tea party – but something about Europe makes me mad for tea towels, and I came home with seven eight of them.

It all started during our trip in 2012, when I bought this in tea towel form. Come to think of it, that’s the reason right there – I loved all the London-themed art I came across, but a) don’t have room for additional prints and b) know that posters are the single worst thing to try and bring back from a trip. I bought the towel instead, because it can be folded and was a great deal cheaper than a print or tote bag. LOGIC! Sometimes I have it!

Just look at all my lovely tea towels!

I don’t really know what I’m going to do with them all, though. Perhaps it is time I take up tea, or towelling off tea. Something like that. Tea!

if you live here, drinking tea is mandatory

if you live here, drinking tea is mandatory

never wear yellow in brighton

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Our trip to London and surrounding areas wasn’t just for fun – along the way, we learned some Life Lessons I will now share with you bit by bit.

The first lesson: Never wear yellow in Brighton. We woke up ridiculously early on the morning of my birthday, and made our way to the train station to spend the day in Brighton. Things were going well – we wandered the town, found an amazing market lined with quirky shops, saw some incredible graffiti, and had lunch at Bill’s. We were full and happy and making our way towards the pier when we stumbled upon the Royal Pavilion Gardens, complete with gorgeous wildflowers, a huge castle-thing, and lush inviting grass just begging for bare feets. The sun had finally come out, and we strolled through the gardens basking in the sheer delight of being in Brighton. It was good.

Then the bugs happened.

See, one of the things I love about the UK is the many, many flower gardens all over the landscape. These aren’t groomed gardens meant for looking at and/or smelling, but rather specific pockets of pollenating plants and flowers set up to entice insects to do their thang. They’re gorgeous, and the fact they almost killed me aside, are awesome.

My birthday started out a little cloudy, so I wore my favourite dress and a bright yellow sweater to make some artificial sunshine. As we were walking through the garden, I noticed a tiny beetle trying to pollenate my sweater. I gently brushed him off, then another, then another, then another, then .. shit. I was *covered* in tiny beetles trying to have sex with me. Ed and Heather helped me brush all the bugs off while Renee laughed at me, and we continued our walk. I looked down while pausing to fountain, and .. more bugs. More manhandling of myself to get them all off. We eventually reached the waterfront, and I figured I was in the clear: no more gardens means no more bugs, right? Time to do birthday pier things! Except .. no, I was still covered in bugs – more than ever. Ed counted as he flicked them off me, stopping when he got to 30 or so. The bugs LOVED my yellow sweater, and were crawling all over me in an attempt to feed off my delicious juice. I gave up at this point – it was warm outside anyway, so I took off my sweater and shoved it in my bag (after shaking it out for a solid 60 seconds). Wearing yellow in Brighton was evidently a huge mistake, one I won’t be repeating anytime soon (not because I know better, but because I am too far away). Also, bugs love me. I am delicious.

Next Life Lesson: that time the UK almost killed me!

bill’s!
terror fabulous
i love graffiti.
here there be so many bugs
happy couple
brighton shore
brighton pier
random castle-thing

drawing to a close

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The first truly bad weather we’ve experienced this entire trip has given us an excellent excuse to do absolutely nothing today. I feel a little guilty, given that we only have two full days of London left before we leave for home on Tuesday, but we’re kind of exhausted and desperately needed the rest. Tomorrow we’ll be back to our usual routine of DO ALL THE THINGS, but today .. well, couch. And bed, and football, and pizza.

I love London and everything about it, but I really miss my cats. We’re both looking forward to going home – this is the longest we’ve ever been away, and I think I drastically underestimated just how long 22 days really is. That being said, we’ve had an amazing time. We’ve done almost everything on the London List, and will likely bang out all but two (a cemetery, and Camden Town – I’m just too tired and broke) in the next couple days. We come home on Canada Day, which is fitting. I will miss London – I’ve been trying very hard not to look at these last few days as “the last time I’ll lounge at the V&A, the last time I’ll be able to find a Pret 15 feet in any direction, the last time I can reach out and touch the Tower Bridge and lick Big Ben (even if they’d really rather I didn’t)”, etc. It’s still a goal of mine to live in London someday, and since I didn’t crumple into dust on my birthday, it could happen.

But first – Paris! We had three days to explore the city, and that’s just what we did. It was Ed’s first time there, with my being a seasoned Paris vet with almost 9 full hours under my belt. We did traditional tourist things, because of the aforementioned first time – the Eiffel Tower (which almost killed Ed because heatstroke), the Louvre (which almost killed everyone in our vicinity because crowd rage), the Notre Dame, and a day of random wandering during which we accidentally found the Persian sex district. We made great use of the bus tour tickets I bought, and braved the Metro multiple times to get around. It was a busy trip within a trip, but we made the most of our time there. It’s interesting, though – even with more time to soak in all (well, more) of what Paris has to offer, I find that my initial thoughts on the city still hold true: Paris is just not for me. I’m super glad I got to experience it not once but twice, and with Ed this time (who, ironically, feels exactly the same way about the city as I do), but to me, it’s no London. Which I love. Have I mentioned that?

I’ve been taking pictures the whole time we’ve been here (except for today, because I haven’t gone outside), but I don’t know where to put them. I didn’t renew my Pro Flickr account, and I don’t know where kids these days are putting their photos .. any ideas?

So, more coming later. Right now there is pizza to eat, and Canada to cheer on in the World Cup. GO SPORTS!

paris opéra

paris opéra

some sorta big tower dealie

some sorta big tower dealie

london built in brick, paris built in stone

london built in brick, paris built in stone

the angel of selfies

the angel of selfies

penis.

penis.

hello from paris

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I fully intended on writing every day (or at least every other day) while on vacation, but then I kept having fun and was exhausted all the time and Heather and Renee were here and it was my birthday and .. well, I forgot. And was too tired. And now Ed and I are in Paris with spotty internet, so don’t hold your breath.

I do promise many pictures and stories soon, along with the dreaded cop-out “my vacation in numbers” post .. but that’ll have to wait: I am going to sleep and tomorrow I will explore Paris for more than the 8 hours H, R, and I had in 2011.

To make up for my absences, here are some things that are hilarious because I am 9 years old at heart:

20140623-231141-83501879.jpg

london: new vancouver

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We’re staying in an area of London that is both new-ish, and new to us. It’s a little further from Central London than our previous visits, and it feels very much like home. Seriously, tell me if this doesn’t look like False Creek and BC Place:

all aboard the mount pleasant gondola

Most of the buildings in the area are new, and built of concrete and glass. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but .. it feels like home. Specifically, Vancouver home. When I visit London, I want it to feel like UK-home: history and wainscotting and ridiculously ornate buildings fit for nobility but are actually a corner grocer and torture chambers and and and. The last place we stayed was right next to the University of London, with all the accompanying Britishness you might expect – but the flat was tiny and uncomfortable for the two of us, and wouldn’t work for the four of us this time around. I did a ton of research before selecting where we are now, but didn’t really look into how London the area felt. It’s not a big deal – as Ed says, we traded charm for comfort – but something feels off about the area, and I think that’s what it is.

But! It’s where we sleep and store our underwear, so it’s all good. We’ve settled in, and have worn ourselves out running all over town exploring new things and revisiting old favourites. Our adventures on Tuesday took us to Canary Wharf for SIM Cards and an accidental high end car show: we made our way through Maseratis and Bentleys and Land Rovers on our unintentional romp through London’s financial district, and once we were fully equipped with internet, I took Ed to Buckingham Palace because it is shiny. We wandered through various Parks, stopping to rest our feet and people watch. Everyone was very fancy – Tuesday was Prince Phillip’s birthday, and some sort of party was happening at the Palace. Hundreds of people were queued up to get in, and everyone was dressed to at least the 8s – top hats and tails on the men, and the FANCIEST HATS on the ladies. St. James’s Park has a huge collection of interesting birds, and I spent a long time looking at baby ducks and geese and swans and this fat squirrel:

it’s hobbes, in squirrel form

We spent some time laying on the grass, then made our way back to home base for sleepings.

On Wednesday, we decided to hop the gondola to London Bridge and walk for a million miles (or 17000 FitBit steps) – all along the South Bank, over multiple bridges, and past my new favourite places in London:

adorable shops in gabriel’s wharf

more 'ffiti

south bank skate park

south bank skate park

more ‘ffiti

The Skate Park was *covered* in graffiti, and was wonderful – I could have spent hours in there (but didn’t, because I killed my camera battery). More South Bank will happen later, as I think it’s my happy place .. so much to do and see and walk and also this old thing:

big ben at seven bong

big ben at seven bong

We wore ourselves the fuck out yesterday, so today was much less exciting: a trip to the mall (because it has the closest M&S that isn’t fucking invisible). We stocked up on groceries and desserts, and are simply resting up because the fun is about to begin: Heather and Renee will be here tomorrow, and then we’re off to Portobello Market and Brighton and Oxford and the V&A and castles and haunted pubs and bus tours and eeeeee!

My feet are gonna hurt so much.

and and and

london: getting here

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Logistically, the flight was amazing. I never thought I’d be one of those people who opt to pay a little more for a decent flight (and I mean little – it worked out that the best possible times for our flights were also the cheapest), but after experiencing Discount London Airlines two years ago, I’ve gladly jumped at the chance to fork over more cash in exchange for budget luxury. We’ve flown to London twice now via Virgin Atlantic, and both times it was great with this trip in particular being extra great:

  • The flight was far from sold out, meaning we were able to snag an empty row of three seats of Ed to crash out on (take THAT, guy who tried to reserve an entire row for himself via throwing his iPad onto the seat only to have the sky waitress instead give the row to the 8.75 month pregnant lady two rows ahead of me)
  • USB PORTS IN THE SEAT BACK my phone was never less than 80% charged all flight and it was heavenly
  • Wifi was available, but for £14.99 ($28CDN) the Instagram pictures of my dinner could wait until we were on the ground
  • Speaking of dinner, it was quite good and served as soon as we were in the air, so no weird smells were being carted down the aisle while we were trying to get some sleep
  • Free entertainment on demand – tons of movies and TV shows, and a small selection of video games that were all free to view/play
  • Alcohol for some reason! Ed opted to try self-medicating with cognac and wine with dinner, and it was both complimentary AND complementary
  • Tons of leg room! Even with our extra bucks we still flew super cheapo economy style, but there was ample amounts of leg room for me to flail around in
  • No babies! While we were checking in, a family with three screaming children were in line next to us and brought on all the trepidation – boy was I relieved when I snuck a look at their boarding passes and realized they were flying to Germany
  • Free socks! You get a little care package on Virgin flights that contain a sleep mask, earplugs, a toothbrush and tiny toothpaste, a pen, and socks. These were very helpful, because I actually lost my socks on the flight (don’t ask) so I was able to put on fresh socks for the rest of the journey

There was very little turbulence on the flight, and we landed in London at 2:45pm local time. We were so early that we had to take the scenic route in:

the rolling fields of england!
my bridge is down there
curvy thames goodness
thanks for flyover of where we’re staying!

Unfortunately, even with all the extra space on our flight, I couldn’t sleep at all. I had just enough room to myself to be awkward – I couldn’t lay down without contorting my legs Cirque-style, and I flopped about restlessly when sitting upright. I was too hot, then too cold, and my underwear was giving me an atomic wedgie. Even after I threw decency and caution to the wind and allowed my nethers to be exposed to anyone who dared peer at them in the darkness, I couldn’t catch any sleep .. so by the time we landed, I was a loopy mess. Luckily, I had some backwards foresight* into the situation, and had opted to go Balls Out Fancy by booking a car service to deliver us unto our AirBnB, so after a brief waiting period (before which we figuratively waltzed through Customs and our bags were coming ’round the bend when we pulled up to the carousel) we were in a car to take us to where a bed was waiting.

.. eventually. See, this was my first time actually driving across London and not just for a short cab ride – we literally went from West London to East London, cutting directly across the city. It took almost 2 hours to arrive, because London traffic is somewhat of a nightmare (and terrifying holy crap) .. but once we got in, we were golden.

The AirBnB I booked is nice and functional, and situated at the base of a gondola for some reason. I rented the whole place (other people scare me), and later this week, Heather and Renee are flying in from Vancouver to join us for a week so the extra room made sense (and also Ed has to work a bit while we’re here, whereas I am a shiftless bum with no job hahHAEHhaehEHA). Today is our first fully conscious day in London, and we have a small but essential list of errands: get UK sim cards for our phones, explore the area, and officially start our London adventure.

EXCITED. If you want to follow along, I’m tagging all our photos and Tweets with #ekuk2!

*: Ed rarely sleeps on flights, and can be somewhat cranky and incoherent without sleep .. so instead of dragging him through London via public transit with all our bags, I ordered a car. This was somewhat flipped, because I was the one incapable of stringing a sentence together and really needed to not rely on my brain to get me all the way across London – but either way, it was a good decision and only slightly more than taking the Heathrow Express halfway to our destination and hoofing it with three transfers the rest of the way.

what is this "share" you speak of? i don't care if barry and josh are on here, get your own damn diet coke

what is this “share” you speak of? i don’t care if barry and josh are on here, get your own damn diet coke