Category Archives: everyday kimli

popsicles are my new jam

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If you know me in meatspace and are not afraid to eat food prepared in my kitchen, it would be in your best interest to develop a sudden overwhelming desire for frozen treats.

I’ve decided that I am All About making popsicles. Not the boring juice-in-freezer kind, but Upscale Fancy Pops that require power tools and ingredients found deep in Alps at dawn on Tuesday mornings when the temperature soars above 15C and sniffed out by a Argentinian donkey named after Neil Gaiman. Rare ingredients. I am all about them.

I got up early this morning (I may have OD’d on sleep yesterday) and made two batches of test pops: Vanilla Elderflower, and Toasted Coconut Cream. They won’t be ready for tasting for many hours, so in the meantime I’m gathering ingredients (by donkey) for the next two recipes to try: Lime Pie and Sugar Pumpkin. I will need people to eat these pops, because I want to try them all but I cannot possibly eat an entire batch to free up my molds. This is a serious problem, and one that can be solved by YOU.

The silence coming from this corner of the internet belies the activity swirling around me on a daily basis. Among the things I meant to write about but ran out of time/forgot/was too busy drinking Jägerbombs wrong are:

  • Ed and I went to a Footballs game last Saturday, courtesy of work. It was my first football game ever, I had no idea what was going on, and I want the orange vinyl boots the cheerleaders wear but Sam won’t let me get any. It was also my first time inside BC Place since the upgrades (I don’t sports often), and it is very nice inside. I like.
  • For the last two Fridays, I’ve been out drinking with coworkers to say goodbye as everybody leaves me for greener (literal and metaphorical) pastures. Last Friday was the worst, and I almost cried several times. I hate goodbyes, and two of my favourites just left: Monday is going to suck because they’re gone and because I think I left the tequila open on my desk, and next Friday is going to suck when we do it all over again to say goodbye to an additional 6 people. I’ve also heard some extremely disturbing rumours that management is planning on moving me away from my hard-earned new desk over to a terrible desk in the Sales area, and I am kind of pissed about that: do you have any idea how many people I had to kill to sit where I am now? MANY. Don’t move me, damnit.
  • I obeyed the law on Tuesday, and doing so RUINED MY LIFE.
  • I had to take the written test again to renew my learner’s license, but now I can ride Lola as long as I have an adult accompanying me and it is daylight out and I go slow like snails. Luckily, I don’t have to wait to take my parking lot test: I can do that right away, and my road test soon after. If nothing else, getting that enormous ticket (which I still haven’t paid – hey, anyone want to buy some Fancy Pops?) spurred me into action – with a little Energon and a lot of luck, I may be completely legal mid-August. That would be super.
  • We went swimming on Thursday night, for the first time in FOREVER (more specifically, since Cuba). It was so much fun, and I saw a tiny version of me. More swimming needs to happen; perhaps even some Night Swimming. 1992, I will relive you yet.

Today I need to .. do stuff. I had a game plan, but I appear to have forgotten it. Does anyone remember what I wanted to do today? Other than impatiently wait for popsicles to freeze? For some reason I think it had something to do with pants, which is strange as I do not wear pants. Maybe burning some pants? That must be it. To the fire pit!

hot and barely legal

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  • It’s really hot out
  • I got my Class 6 learner’s permit, and I can take my skills test at any time

I am at a bar to reluctantly bid two of my favourite co-workers a fond farewell. I am half drunk on boozy fruit. I have a hall pass.

All this and more, when I return to the Internet tomorrow!

new contender

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.. for the WORST THING IN THE WORLD:

Last night I was working really hard on drifting off to sleep when I heard Cheddar making “about to puke” noises. Most of the time, we ignore them – she’s gonna throw up and we can’t do anything about it, so we’ll clean it up later. I was fully prepared to pretend I didn’t hear her, when .. *splash*.

What the fuck. That sounded .. wet. She was also gearing up to puke again, so I leapt out of bed and ran to my bathroom just as she was throwing up on my rug. Well, that’s better than the carpet, I guess. I made sure she was done, then looked for the source of the splash. She puked on my bathmat – annoying, but they can be washed. Oh, look – she must have been on the toilet lid when she started throwing up. Okay, let’s wet some paper towels to clean things up, and ..

.. was she on my counter?

OH GOD WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK

I found the splash: my lovely pain in the fucking ass cat had thrown up while standing on my bathroom counter; COVERING my makeup and brushes in a vile trifecta of gross liquid, food, and hairball. She actually filled an upturned lid with vomit. I was thoroughly disgusted, and fucking LIVID – Cheddar never goes up on my bathroom counter, so why the fuck was she there and also decided it was the best place in the world to throw up?

I spent the next hour swearing loudly and disinfecting my entire bathroom. I was glad (but still angry) to discover she hadn’t puked on any open containers; I was able to salvage everything (except the lid; I was too horrified to deal with it). Brushes were soaked in a disinfecting brush cleaner and rinsed within an inch of their lives. All containers and compacts were rinsed, wiped down, and cleaned again. Counter was scoured. Rugs and bathmats were thrown in the laundry; cat was glared at really hard. I’m still annoyed with her, and she’s banned from my bathroom (and should probably be banned from my office for good measure). Animals are disgusting. Why do I have them again?

It’s probably good that I am so broke at the moment, or I’d be tempted to throw out all my makeup and buy new stuff that wasn’t once covered in vomit. Sure, I’d need to go to the UK to fully do so, but I’m willing to make that sacrifice. I am a trooper.

Stupid cat.

robot house

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Bit by bit, I am turning my house into a fully-automated robot I can live inside. It’s sort of like how I planned to live inside Optimus Prime when I grew up, which didn’t happen for a variety of reasons (his insistence upon not being real chief among them). Still, as technology creeps ever closer to sentience, I find I am slowly able to outfit my place in gadgets I can control remotely for fun (mine) and profit (theirs). Sure, I can just turn the lights on manually, but this is the future: I have no time to do things analoggally. I demand an app to do everything; from turning on my fan at night to reminding me to wear a jacket when it’s balls-ass cold (hint: this is Vancouver; it never gets balls-ass cold). TECHNOLOGY! It’s making me lazier than ever!

Last week during my rage-spree I bought a Belkin WeMo switch and motion sensor. I have the switch attached to the fan in the bedroom, and with the IFTTT app it turns off at 1:30 am and back on again at 8 – just enough for me to fall asleep in breezy comfort, but not make it hard to get out of bed in the morning because I’m shivering under the covers/a layer of cats. This is fantastic, and I am very pleased with the setup.

I’m less certain about the motion sensor, though: I don’t know what to use it for. At the moment, I have it set up to send me an intruder alert if there is more than 30 seconds of activity by the kitchen counter between the hours of 10am and 5pm Monday to Friday, but it seems there should be way cooler things to do with it. When the days get stupid short, I’ll set up script to turn the lights on when I get home, but I don’t need that functionality right now on account of all the daylight ever. So, what should I do? I feel as though I should buy some sort of wacky machine that turns on when motion is detected. Maybe something with smoke and lasers. The cats/home invaders would probably enjoy a random light show.

More technology, please. I want my life to be needlessly (but awesomely) complicated!

consolation prize

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I am petulant about vacation.

The last several years have been a whirlwind of international adventure: road trips to San Francisco and Portland, two trips to London, a week in Cuba. These were among my first ever “real” vacations, and I developed a taste for them – did you know it’s FUN to go to exciting places and be all carefree and shit? I had no idea! .. but now that I do, I don’t know that I can ever go back.

Sadly, my reality doesn’t have me jetting off to the UK every time I run out of mascara. Knowing that a trip to London for a third year in a row was probably not in the cards (stupid cards), I planned a simple road trip that would allow Ed and I to spend some time on the coast and in California. The trip never happened for a variety of reasons, so we came up with a less-excited-but-still-fun Plan B: taking our scooter/motorcycle to Victoria, and riding around the Island for a few days. It’s no San Francisco, but it’s one of my favourite things in the world to do. We wanted to make it feel more like an actual vacation, so we were going to get a hotel for a few nights instead of staying in my mother’s horrible basement suite .. but certain financial uncertainties arose making the expenditure unwise. Still, it’d be fun to ride around even if we had to stay in the Basement Suite of Dank Sweaty Hell, so Plan B was looking pretty good.

Then I got caught riding Lola without a Class 6 licence. While we COULD still throw caution to the wind and go anyway, neither of us feel like thumbing our noses at The Man to that extent .. so both Plan A and B are shelved for the year, and I am sad.

But wait! Ed has an idea! “Don’t be sad,” he says. “We can go to EDMONTON!”

If I was merely sad before, I am full-on sobbing now: I am barely okay with not going to (or existing in) London. I can live without driving down the coast and exploring the parts of San Francisco we missed before. We will ride to Victoria eventually, and it will be even better when it’s legal.

But to not do any of those and replace it with a trip to EDMONTON? In the armpit of summer? And think that I would be excited about the adventuresome possibilities that await?

You’re hilarious, universe.

I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO EDMONTON. I feel bad about not wanting to go. There are many excellent reasons – okay, 1.5 excellent reasons – actually, 1 excellent reason and 1 tasty reason – to go: we could visit Ed’s parents, whom we haven’t seen since their trip to BC in 2011. Also, we could eat donairs. And that’s IT.

It’s true that I am somewhat biased against all of Alberta, for reasons that I don’t fully understand myself: alls I know is that when I think about going to Edmonton, my insides get all panicky and I am awash with dread. Ed is very familiar with my extreme distaste in spending my hard-earned vacation days sitting in someone’s basement with nothing to do because it’s hot as balls outside and also it’s Edmonton, but he’d really like it if I was okay with this. I would too, because it would certainly be easier. Unfortunately, there’s a very loud brat living inside my head who can’t get over how my only vacation this year went from London, to San Francisco, to Victoria, and landed on Edmonton. It makes me sad. I want to go on vacation to have happy fun adventure times exploring new places and seeing neat things, not visiting family. All of Ed’s friends and relatives now have children, and I don’t want to spend my Fun Times pretending I’m interested in babies and backyard landscaping. I’m fully aware that this is a shitty way to feel, but I am fundamentally broken in many ways and family freaks me out – so not only would I not be somewhere exotic and fun, I’d be desperately uncomfortable the entire time. I don’t want to subject myself to that, let alone as my only fun getaway this year.

This is stressing me out. I love Ed’s parents and want to see them more often, but I don’t want to go to Edmonton.

What to do?

the angry sads

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These last two weeks have been an epic shit show of Bad Times, and the universe just keeps on giving:

  • Twelve Thirteen (13) people have left or are leaving the office since June 28th; among them many people I enjoy working with AND the entire Product Design team (except me)
  • Last night all my coworkers went out to commiserate with alcohol, and even though I specifically asked four separate people to contact me when they got to Thing B after Thing A so I could join them, they all forgot and that fucking hurts like hell
  • Tonight I received a traffic citation for $276, because I was caught riding Lola without a Class 6 driver’s license
  • I’ve been a weepy, butthurt mess for the last 30 hours or so
  • What the fucking ever-loving fuck, America

I cannot handle all of these messy feelings.

disloyal

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Much like how my mother felt about me while I was growing up, I am angry at my wallet for being so big. It is packed with stupid 98%-of-the-time-unnecessary loyalty cards that infuriate me every time I look at them, because this is 2013 and there is NO. FUCKING. REASON. I should have to carry around your stupid little piece of plastic in order to collect points/get the sale price/freely give you access to my purchasing habits so you can better market things my way. I actually carry two wallets: one with useful things like my ID, bank card, and cash; the second (which is a cheque-sized wallet, unlike the tiny coin purse thingie with the important stuff) contains nothing but 13 American dollars and a stack of loyalty cards for places that prefer to exist in 1963, when handbags were voluminous and made of fine Corinthian leather (the Corinthi being the beast best associated with personal accessories the size of a small planet).

The stupidest thing of all is that every single one of these stores have an app and web presence that make them look as though they’re a “hip”, “with it” company that uses the “internet” to connect with “consumers”. Most even have online shopping and an active social media presence – in fact, it’s only when you get offline and into meatspace that everything goes to shit and I do not understand. Why, exactly, can I not keep all my loyalty cards in my phone* like they do in the rest of the first world? “Oh, our scanners can’t read phone screens” “We need to see the card to make sure you’re who you say you are” “Speak into my ear trumpet sonny, I can’t hear so good after fighting at the Alamo” and so on and so forth. GET WITH THE FUCKING PROGRAM, PEOPLE. It’s costing you sales, as people will avoid your stores if they’ve forgotten to haul their wheelbarrow of cards around. I won’t go to Save-On-Foods or Shoppers Drug Mart if I don’t have my cards, and I can’t go to Costco without it. I don’t collect Airmiles anymore, because I don’t have the card on me when I need it. Fabricland? No card means no 50% discount on my purchase, so I have to carry it. Hell, I’m even fed up with stamp cards: I have six or seven half-full Pinkberry cards that I would love to redeem, but since I don’t want to carry the fucking universe on my shoulder, they just pile up and make me mad. It’s insane and wasteful and just plain stupid. Passbook, motherfucker. Do you know of it?

Figure this shit out, already. Join us in the brave new future. STOP SUCKING.

*I know there are third party apps available to keep your cards in, but the problem lies in the stores – they are not equipped to take anything other than a physical card their archaic technology can read.

save it

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Dear Vancouver Business Women:

I am all too aware of the fact that I look as though I spent the night in the back of a pickup truck filled with glitter. Honestly, this isn’t far from the truth. That being said, if you could please keep your obvious stink eye to yourself, we’ll all get through this Wednesday a little bit easier. Deal?

If you keep it up, I’ll randomly look at you and start laughing hysterically. Did I remember a funny joke? Do I find your purchased-at-the-night-market “designer” handbag amusing? You’ll never know!

No love,

Kimli
Who sometimes looks like utter crap
Deal with it

the best things in life are free

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.. unfortunately, my life is comprised mainly of apparently rotten things that all require cash money that I may not have. So, I’ve brainstormed some potential money-making ideas:

  • No one really NEEDS two kidneys
  • Marketing my blood as a hardcore, Mountain Dew-esq alternative to maple syrup
  • Selling my eggs – who wants a little half Malaysian in them?
  • Hand jobs for $5
  • Selling the sperm collected from the $5 handjobs
  • Opening a pie, lemonade, and handmade pornographic goods stand with Sam
  • Sell out! Attention all companies: Delicious Juice Dot Com is ready to start shilling for you! Do you want access to my four remaining readers? Would your product or service be a perfect fit for my .. apparent inability to finish a sentence? Contact me today!
  • Be independently wealthy and become a vigilante tech writer
  • Buy, then resell, Beanie Babies
  • Return all my Diet Coke empties
  • Kissing booths are so passé – I will open a motorboat booth. Make blaggle wooble sounds in my bosom for $2!
  • Visit the bereaved and claim I sold his or her recently deceased loved one an expensive, personalized user manual that has money owing on it

Oh yeah. I’m going to be paying my bills in NO TIME.

now i’m over here

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Not long after I started my job, I was moved to the Worst Desk in the Office (they assured me it was nothing personal, but I still have my suspicions). Stuck, I tried to make my workspace feel like home by stealing furniture and creating some walls, then covering those walls in video game posters and toys. None of this could really disguise the fact that the desk was still terrible, but at least I had some semblance of privacy. I truly hated it, though – since the day I moved, I’ve been trying to get a different desk anywhere else. I volunteered to sit in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or in the middle of the floor, all to no avail: I had to stay put, and it sucked.

Fortunately but unfortunately, a mass exodus at work has freed up some space and more than a year later, I finally have a new desk. It is an excellent desk; one that people don’t walk behind a million times a day. It’s bigger than my old one, and has fewer splinters that ruin my clothes when I sit down. I even have a tall cabinet with shelves for all my toys and Diet Coke cups (I have 9 mugs at work for some reason) and the collective Nerf arsenal of the Graphics Department. I am pleased with my new home.

Being pleased as punch will only get you so far when you are VERY SAD, though: another person from my fledgling Product Design team has given notice. My future is up in the air, and that is my least favourite place for it to be: I am a sad, worried Kimli.

These are dark times, even with all the light streaming through my new windows. One small plus, though – a gratifying number of people who walk past my old desk are shocked/upset/confused/worried when they see that I am no longer there.