My effortless congeniality and general good cheer at work is starting to crack around the edges. It’s all likely due to the never-ending suck happening outside, but I’m cranky. What’s worse, I’m cranky for no real reason and at something I normally love doing: patting people on the back. I’m always the Champion of Others, making sure that people know they’re appreciated and rewarded and infusing their day-to-day existence with a warm glow of love and acknowledgement .. but right now, everyone can suck it. I don’t WANT to design fancy rewards for people. I’m tired of gifting people booze and gift cards because they do their job competently. I’m grumpy at always making sure other people feel loved (both at work and irl), because no one ever does the same for me.

No one ever recognizes the person doing the employee recognition, and it’s making me pouty. I pull miracles out of my ass on a regular basis! Acknowledge my mad skills and camaraderie! Bask in my unflappable (except for right now) good cheer and pleasant aromas! I’m a good little worker bee too, damnit – everything I do is to make life easier and more fun for others! Some sort of thank you might be nice, don’t you think?

I’m (mostly) just being silly about all this, but sometimes there is chafing and ass marbles and today is one of those times. I have cabin fever, I think. I need Adventure and Excitement. Maybe a Scandal or two; some good old fashioned Controversy with a dash of Self-Righteous Ire thrown in for fun. Or, you know, a nap. A nap would be good too.

I miss Good Times.

Not wearing pants: easier than EVER!

Last week, Barb (one half of the brain trust behind the now-in-Gibsons Bodacious on Main) contacted me and asked if I’d be interested in taking a look at Diane Kennedy‘s  new line of dresses called Cherry Velvet. Being a fan of Barb, Ms. Kennedy’s clothes AND dresses, I almost tripped over myself in my haste to say YES PLEASE. It’s a well-known fact that I eschew pants as often as legally allowed, and I’m always on the lookout for new dresses to wear (something my 12-year-old self is kind of disgusted about, but that’s a story for my imaginary therapist). Barb invited me to the studio in Railtown, and on Monday I scooted on over to take a peek at the brand new Cherry Velvet line.

I’m in love.

The dresses are gorgeous. Not satisfied with less than fabulous, they made the dress in a whole range of beautiful fabrics to the point where it was difficult to pick a favourite. The dresses are selling like mad, and while in retrospect it was good they didn’t have the two patterns I drooled over in my size for the sake of my credit card only, I did get to try on the dress in the Love Letters print. It’s an unusual look for me in that it’s not all black with an extra side of black – rather, it’s a creamy print with old French postcards and flowers all over.

I’m a little incompetent when I buy dresses, because I’m so used to things fitting me poorly that I settle a great deal – my entire wardrobe is an experience in “good enough”. Things are almost always too big, too small, too short, too low-cut, too hilarious .. but I’ll wear them anyway, because where am I going to find something that fits me perfectly? Trying on the Cherry Velvet dress gave me a bit of a shock, because it DID fit perfectly – every single part landed exactly where it was supposed to. The armholes in particular were kind of awesome – they FIT. They weren’t sausage-tight or Gapey McSide Boob, they were *perfect*. The neckline will suit everyone (except me – I LIKE showing as much boob as possible; if I had to choose one thing I’d change it’d be a lower neckline for more – too much – cleavage) regardless of their bosom (or lack thereof). The dresses have a super-flattering empire waist, and they. Have. POCKETS. I am going to buy one in every colour and pretty much wear nothing but – POCKETS! To HOLD STUFF! I can keep my phone out of my bra, and maybe carry some frogs and sticky candy for emergencies. Everything should have pockets. More pockets equals more AWESOME.

Pocket squeals aside, I really love these dresses. They satisfy me on so many levels – ridiculously flattering fit, made by a local designer, POCKETS – I’ve already got my next bonus bookmarked for one or more Cherry Velvet dresses to go along with the gorgeous Love Letter one I was gifted, and I can’t wait. There is a serious dearth of options for the comely buxom lass, and I was thrilled to see Diane’s dresses – it is a crime not to feel ravishing, and I dare you to not feel sassy and glamourous when wearing one of these. Check out their blog and Facebook page to find out where you can find the dresses, and I’ll doll myself up and post a picture soon. Yay for fun and flirty! Yay for retro! Yay for a dress with a hemline long enough that I can scoot in it without showing Hastings St. my vagina!

vive la france!

I remember why I don’t read as much as I used to – it’s because I CAN’T STOP. It’s like some kind of compulsion to read and read and read and read and read while forsaking all else – food, sleep, Tiny Tower, the internet. I’ve read 2.5 books in the Song of Ice and Metaphor series in the last three days – 2200 pages, give or take a paragraph or two – and my head is killing me. I’m tired, and hungry. I may have bedsores. I am not, however, enraged like the LAST time I went on a reading spree – that time I read 9 Anita Blake novels in one sitting and wanted to punch things when I was done. These books are immeasurably better, but I’m still word-weary. No more reading, for now. I will give it a rest – catch up on sleep, my Tiny Tower inventory, food – and maybe even join the real world for a spell. No more wolves and walls and misleading epilogues. I will save books 4 and 5 to blaze through at an inhuman speed later, when I’ve had my fill of people and this false summer we’re having. I’ve missed you, internet. Let’s hang out and be friends.

I don’t know how much longer I can blame my missing mail on the postal strike – some things seem to have gotten through intact, yet other packages are nowhere to be seen. I’m missing four items dating back to the end of May, and I’m pretty grumpy about it. It’s far too late to file any non-delivery claims, and the sellers just say “oh gee that’s weird” which really doesn’t do me any good at all. The mail I DO get is pretty useless as well – just today there was a delivery notice in our mailbox for a package I picked up last week (strike or not, our postie is still playing the “leave the notice three days late” game), and a postcard good for a free birthday drink from Starbucks .. if it hadn’t expired on July 2nd. And so I wait, frustrated and annoyed. I want my things, you jerks. Don’t make me order more stuff from the internet in retribution.

I think I’ll go bake some muffins.

baking muffins in the cold november rain

My lunchbox brings all the boys to the yard:

damn right it's better than yours

Also? It came FILLED WITH COOKIES. There is not a single thing about this entire situation that is not STUFFED WITH AWESOME.

Tomorrow: my reign of no pants continues, in mad style!

It PAINS me that people in China – MY people – don’t, at this very moment, know what is going on with my vagina:

NO JUSTICE

Okay, so they’re not really my people – I’m half Malaysian, not Chinese – but still. No wonder no one reads my blog; it’s blocked from over 1.3 billion people. HMPF.

Today was Boat Fun 2.0. I love boat! Boat may be my favourite of all!

heather enjoys boat

you should all live here.

coming soon - boat 3.0: the boatening

ride a boat. see a seal.

even our sky is fancy

I love fun days.

I’m creating superheroes at work. Like, for real. My job is hilarious.

Not THIS hilarious, though:

the next page would have been full-on porn

I’m making an employee recognition plan. Before we decided on superheroes, I tried a couple of different themes out. I like the retro thing, but I probably did it a disservice with the innuendo – it was shot down in favour of Captain Accountable and The Zealot.

Still, I’m getting paid to invent back stories for superheroes. I am exactly where my 14-year-old self wanted to be.

Two things I am currently doing that could have a grave ROI:

• Googling “pugs in BC”
• Answering messages on OK Cupid

May you live in interesting times is supposed to be an ancient Chinese curse; one that’s always confused me – I LIKE interesting. Why would I not want to live in interesting times? That sounds like fun, and a hell of a lot better than living in boring times. I imagine that people who do not want to live in interesting times are extremely dull and probably drink lukewarm tea while watching reality TV. Those people can HAVE their uninteresting times; I’ll take the curse thank you very much.

Then I had a very interesting 36 hours or so, and by the end of it all I was kind of wishing for a nice cup of chamomile and the Bachelorette (bless her indecisive heart). I get why it’s a curse now – “interesting times” doesn’t mean adventure, it means turmoil and danger and arsonists all up in your business. It’s riots and sirens and Aquaman throwing stuff through your front door. It’s not getting packages in the mail or going on TV to answer criticism about being a snitch; it’s fucking scary.

On Sunday night, there was a couple fighting on the street below our bedroom window loudly enough to wake us both up. Monday afternoon was the fire. Around 3am Tuesday morning, I was awoken by a guy sobbing his brains out across the street – full-bodied (and likely drunken) sobs that sounded like a dramatic exercise by the worst acting student with delusions of grandeur that ever lived. Less than four hours later, I was startled awake once again – this time by a car crash. There was a head-on collision in my intersection, and the screeching of tires and metal had me out of bed before my alarm went off.

Enough, okay? No more interesting times outside my bedroom window! I would really love to be able to sleep a whole night through without a gaggle of drunken idiots having relationship problems 20 feet from my head. It’s kind of like living in the Ghetto of North Vancouver all over again (I miss the drum circles, kind of) with only slightly less crime (and way fewer all out gang wars).

I’ll take the interesting times in other places, though. I sure do love me some adventure!

down low