I finally get it – I see why people drink.

I’m not talking about people who drink to get drunk, but those who drink beer and wine and liquor because they enjoy it. In all the time I’ve been alive, I’ve never understood it – alcohol is disgusting. It tastes horrible. It makes my insides burn with diseases. And people do this for FUN?

Last night, I drank a glass of wine.

I didn’t break out into hives.

I didn’t make faces at the aftertaste.

I didn’t turn bright-ass red and start hyperventilating; nor did I get instantly drunk and fall asleep.

THIS IS HUGE.

I had my first taste of beer at age 7 (a Coors Light from my 32yo brother), and it was disgusting. In grade 9, I filled a container with gin and apple juice and went to school because I was a Bad Ass, and even though I enjoyed being sneaky and a Problem Child for a day, I didn’t enjoy the actual drinking part at all. When I was 17, I hung out with a Bad Crowd and my weekends were filled with Silent Sam and Malibu – again, I drank because it’s what we did; I certainly didn’t like it all that much. I have never, ever liked alcohol. Even drinks that I could choke down – fruity girl drinks that were more sugar than alcohol – were barely tolerable; I’d drink them because I’d forgotten how fucking horrible booze made me feel every single time. Do you know how much it sucks to drink something that tastes terrible and instantly gives you a bladder infection? It’s about as much fun as it sounds, so eventually I just stopped drinking altogether. If anything is going to cause burning sensations where there ought not be any burning at all, I want filthy carnal sexy times to be the reason – not because I had a sip of something gross.

Then there was last night. We went out for Ethiopian food for Ed’s birthday dinner, and the owner of the restaurant served us his top secret honey wine that he brews for himself. I was curious about this glass of Mountain Dew-coloured thick stuff that smelled like chocolate, so I took a sniff then a little sip. Then .. nothing. No yucky taste. No burning urethra. No hives or waves of scorching heat coming from my cheeks; no zero to drunk in 60ml. I was .. fine. And it was fucking DELICIOUS.

Is THIS what people taste and feel when they drink a good wine or beer? If it is, then sign me up – I could drink bottles of that stuff. I ordered myself a glass, and polished it off with my (amazing) dinner. I was ever-so-slightly buzzed, and I felt none of my usual symptoms after having something with booze in it. This is fucking INCREDIBLE – to illustrate just how bad my reaction to alcohol is, you know those booze-filled chocolates all over the place during the holidays? Yeah, I can’t eat those. I mean, I COULD, but the mini bladder infection just isn’t worth it.

Who wants to go drinking? I can only go to one place and have this one kind of booze that can’t be bought in a store, but I can totally drink it without dying. LET’S GET DRUNK LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE DO!

Um, and I suppose I’ve fallen off the 2012: Year of the Straight Edge wagon. I will hop back on – Mike is a bad, bad man – but I will gladly hop off at any time to go have more of that honey wine because GOOD GOD Y’ALL. So good.

all that remained.

Today is Ed’s birthday. Happy birthday, Ed!

I did not have time to craft him up a birthday card in my usual nonsensical style, so I improvised: I gave him a filthy card and, borrowing heavily from James Joyce’s love letters to Nora, crammed it full of birthday greetings and early 20th century lyrical smut. I may not share Joyce’s passion for his lover’s farts – quite the opposite, really – but I wholeheartedly approve of the lusty nature of his correspondence and the graphic yet quaint descriptions of titty fucking and hand jobs.

I love you Ed, and not in the least because you let me do unspeakable things to you in the name of science!

yay ed!

According to the Google, Mercury is not currently in retrograde. This leads me to believe that the End of Times has begun, because things are getting all doomy up in here – for the past week, the news has been full of FUCKED UP SHIT that is only getting worse:

• Naked face eater in Florida
• Random murders and car-jacking in Seattle, leaving 5 dead
• Two shot and killed in Maple Ridge and a third victim in critical condition; suspect killed in a police shootout
• Body parts mailed all over the place (with some still in transit)
• A torso in a suitcase and a man on the run after leaving notes saying he’ll kill again

.. and just now, I’ve been offered cash compensation – twice – due to the problems I am experiencing with the vaginal mesh I didn’t even know I had. Okay, maybe my vaginal mesh issues aren’t on the same scale as someone eating another person’s face, but STILL. Weird things are happening all over the place and I for one am preparing for the worst: I bought three bottles of Diet Coke and a can of Pringles on my way to work this morning. I’m ready for anything.

I can’t help but feel that all this bizarre, X-Files-style news portends something scary and ominous; perhaps worthy of the terrifying music from the Prometheus trailer (seriously I think the world is ending every time it comes on TV). Are things aligning in a bad way? Were the Mayans onto something? What does Nostradamus have to say about all this? In what way is it the fault of the Liberal media? SO MANY QUESTIONS. So many fucked up crimes. Don’t kill each other, okay? And don’t send body parts via Canada Post. No one wants to deal with the cleanup when they inevitably fail to deliver the package on time and mail you a “come get it yourself” notice instead.

I picked a spectacular day to not be in the office, as two parcels came for me and I was not there to receive them. One is going to be a royal pain in the ass to get – they tried to deliver it to Sparta on Tuesday, but I was at work. They came to the office today, but I was at home. Now the internet tells me it’s “available for pickup” .. in the middle of Richmond somewhere, with a massive brokerage fee owing on it. I have a black belt in package-fu, but I really dropped the ball this time around – my inability to predict the courier’s movements has Caused an Issue, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to find my way to Richmond to deal with it. Unfortunately, I can’t call customer service to arrange a (third) alternate until tomorrow, which means I *might* get the package on Friday. Maybe. If I’m really, really lucky. If I’m not .. well, it might be shipped back to friggin’ India and who knows when I’ll see it. It’s not like I placed the order in April or anything, either.

The other package wasn’t dropped off for some reason, but they left a pick-up slip and took it to a post office. Unfortunately, it’s not at the post office across the street from work, but one several blocks away. I’ll have to stop there on my way to work tomorrow to rescue it – it’s not that big a deal, but I’m a bit grumpy at the moment so everything is just a great big inconvenient marble in my ass. If things could just stop getting on my nerves, that would be just greeeeeat.

I’m fairly certain I’m in the middle of my standard Upcoming Birthday Depression, because I’m really fed up with a lot of things I normally let slide. It’s turning me into kind of a jerk, because instead of trying to appreciate the quirks and foibles that make us all different, I’m calling people out for being stupid .. in my mind. In reality, I’m just removing the stupids from my sight and going on an unfollowing spree on Instagram. I love Instagram and think it’s awesome, but people have wildly different opinions on what makes a good photo to share with others. Every single thing you eat? Not interesting. Text messages? Incredibly not interesting. Pictures of people you’re stalking? Creepy as fuck. I’m not saying my own images are Louvre worthy, but at least I try for humour and/or variety. It’s not just pictures, though .. Twitter and Facebook are marbling up my ass too. I’m tired of astounding egos, idiotic statements, *ville invites, demands that we celebrate every moment of your life, modern day equivalents to chain letters .. okay, everything. I’m tired of it all. I kind of want to just lay under my bed and sleep until everyone stops sucking so much.

But then I’d NEVER get my packages, and I wouldn’t know what you had to eat today.

It’s amazing how much better I sleep when no one is yelling about snipping my spine in two.

On Sunday night, our resident Angry Hobo (he is dangerously crazy and OH SO ANGRY) decided to stand on the corner I live on and yell threatening things out to the world. As strange as it may seem, it’s really no cause for alarm – he does this all the time (although usually not all bloody night long) and as far as I know he has yet to make good on any of his threats. He stomps all around our neighbourhood (and others, I’m assuming, because he’s not around all the time) ranting at the top of his lungs about everything and nothing before he comes up with the plan to snip your spine in two. He must have been really angry on Sunday, because he’d upgraded to snipping testicles while yelling all night long in one spot, instead of yelling while walking off into the distance. I was too comfortable to call the cops so I ignored him even though I was jerked awake ever half hour or so. The following morning I learned that the Spine Snipper spent the night under the awnings beneath our unit – poor lil’ guy must have tuckered himself out.

Whatever his problem, he found somewhere else to yell last night and I was able to sleep all the way through to this morning. I’m much less a zombie than I was yesterday, which is doing wonders for my productivity and mood. Sure, it only took me four hours to write one paragraph – but it’s an improvement, see. I’m working.

On Sunday, Ed was seized with the notion that we really, really needed an XBox Kinect – so he went out and got one. We’ve spent the last couple of nights doing unspeakable things in front of the TV in the name of motion gaming, and it’s pretty cool. I am seriously not crazy about the pictures the Kinect takes while you’re playing – more unflattering images of me have NEVER BEEN TAKEN – but so far it’s been fun. I’m thinking about picking up an easy dance game to try out in the dark privacy of my living room. I’d like to say “it couldn’t hurt”, but knowing me .. I’ll probably fall out of the living room window and land on the Spine Snipper, which’ll make him want to snip my spine.

In other news, I am tired of many, many things. Perhaps it is time for a change!

I will never be hip.

Supersonic, idiotic, disconnecting, not respecting, who would really ever wanna go and top that
Such a waste of pretty face but hanging in your nowhere space
I wish that you would take a look and really stop that
Top that, stop that
I don’t really give a –  about trying to top that
Top that, stop that
I wish you’d finally take a real look and really stop that

I realized (after getting some sleep – up at 7am for no reason makes me dumb) that my post below was many things, including misleading and childish and petulant – so this is a follow-up post to say I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m PMS’ing, I’m muddled up about a bunch of trivial-ass things, I’m unable to properly articulate my feelings like an adult .. so in a last ditch attempt at making some words go, I simply farted on the internet.

Sorry about that.

You can tell I’m serious, because I DO NOT FART. Ever. It’s too close to pooping, and I don’t do that – but in this case, it honestly explains exactly what happened this morning. Frustrated farts instead of words. Oops.

Now I’m going for pizza and iron men!

Here is an adorable picture to make up for internet farts:

adorable.

Fuck you.

Yep, lots of prid here:

Happy Geek Pride Day!

The Nesting:

must .. fill .. free .. space

I’m trying to cover ALL VIDEO GAMES EVER in my space. I’ve got the aforementioned posters from Bioshock 2, posters from Space Channel 5 and Pinball of the Dead (both from the Gameboy Advance releases in 2003), a Mario hat, Beat from Jet Set Radio, a “What Would Gordon Freeman Do” bumper sticker from Half-Life 2, and my candy bowl:

no, it’s not socketed. YOU try sticking gems in tiny tiny candy.

I dug out a lot of older nerd stuff to bring in, and I know I have a lot more. Perhaps it’s time to dust off the Taiko Drum Master – nothing says “good time at work” like being loud.

Nesting is fun!