In honour of my 2,000th Delicious Juice post (on WordPress), I would like to inform you that shit is getting serious up in here:

don't worry; all the dinosaurs are over 18

Things are about to get a great deal more awkward.

Bring marshmallows.

Last night I learned two things:

• My uncle died last week
• I had an uncle

My family: we’re not close.

I always kind of knew my mother had siblings, but it wasn’t something I gave much thought – honestly, I’ve devoted more time to selecting a brand of toilet paper than I have to thinking about the relatives I have floating around out there in the ether. I’ve joked that I can’t have sex anywhere in south east Asia because there’s a high chance I’d be fucking a cousin, but that’s about as far as my thoughts went. Family is an alien concept to me.

I’m not quite sure how to feel about the passing of this uncle I didn’t know existed. I feel as though I should be a lot sadder than I am, and I feel guilty because I just don’t feel it. I do feel bad that my mom lost a brother, but beyond that .. there’s not much. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think I’m a bad person. Are you required to mourn people you’re related to, even if you learned about their life and death in the same sentence? That seems like a lot of work. Instead, I will drink a toast to my late Uncle Steve and wish we had met while he was alive. And maybe I’ll ask my mom about her other siblings, so I’m a little more prepared for these things. It would be kind of fun/scary to think about how different my life would have been if I had a big family; to think about what I’d be like if I grew up with a support system and cousins all over the place. Huh. Now I’m all thinky, and not just about whether playing the bereavement card (which, to be fair, only came up at all because I’m editing that section of our employee manual) to get a day off would negatively effect my karma enough to make me Lawful Evil instead of my usual happy standard of Chaotic Neutral.

true story: before I took this picture I was thinking "man, I wish I had a d20 here" then I remembered that I totally did

Erik the Red will now be known as Erik the FABULOUS:

by odin's delicious beard!

I am so very, very tired.

If yesterday’s phone call had come a week earlier, my upcoming fall would look very different indeed.

The shop called around 5:30 with an update on Lola. She is both leaking and burning oil into an alternate dimension – the oil isn’t getting to the engine, because it’s going SOMEWHERE. Where that is, we don’t know. It’s just .. gone. All signs are pointing to a ghost in the machine (herp derp) and also a valve seal problem. Best case scenario: the leak can be fixed externally, the parts are in stock, and I get Lola back sometime next week. Worst case: the engine has to come apart, the parts need to be ordered, and I’ll get Lola back in time for Thanksgiving. This’ll involve opening up the cylinder to see if I did any damage to it while riding around without oil; all of which basically adds up to a METRIC ASS FUCK FULL OF MONEY. In fact, regardless of which cuisine reigns supreme, this repair is going to be vomitously expensive – and if it happened last week instead of this, I certainly wouldn’t have been buying tickets to London for a spot of tea with the Queen.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m perversely glad it happened this way, because I’m still so excited about going to England I could pee glitter. I’m just thinking about the cost – it doesn’t really matter what happens at this point; that bill is going to hurt. A lot. And it’s scary to think that if I hadn’t taken her in, I could have very well destroyed my scooter. The day I dropped her off I was having second thoughts about the necessity of it all – she was riding fine, none of the weird things had happened in a while, why bother with the expense – but I couldn’t shake the “what if”, and I took her in. It’s good that I did. I will still have a scooter at the end of this. A scooter and a very, very sore bank account what with all the expensive and intrusive anal reaming.

I spent all of yesterday being so stressed out about Lola that I was in no shape for socializing, so I spent the evening cram crafting for Sunday. I made some new stuff, too – in addition to the Lego necklaces, I’ll have some nerdy magnets, rings and pins made from l33t Scrabble tiles:

i have more tiles on the way. coming soon: SWEARING!

Come on by! Also, say the secret phrase for some FREE SMUTTONS! The phrase for tomorrow is “I’ve got taco fever” – tell me all about your insatiable lust for tacos, and you’ll get some free wearable porn. Hooray!

Back to worrying about my scooter now. Boo :(

me in happier times

An awkward phone call:

“I heard your company does charitable donations like gift cards and stuff. Can I have some?”

No. No, you can’t. Stop calling me, crazy lady.

My Friday started out well enough – I was in a good mood, managed to get a seat on the bus, was amused by the dirty looks thrown my way, admired some well-built calves on the guy standing next to me – but it’s rather quickly souring on me. A lot of stuff hasn’t gone my way since the aforementioned calf-ogling, and it’s bringing me down:

• I haven’t gotten any mail this week at all – my whore coins still haven’t arrived, along with a whole bunch of other stuff
• While my Cram Crafting for this Sunday’s Blim Market is going well, I’m out of chain for my Heart Shaped Blox and every place I’ve checked is out of stock
• I dropped Lola off at the shop yesterday, and I got a call this morning – she is FUCKED UP. I had an issue in June with some missing oil, and it turns out that my engine was completely dry. Oil is going from the tank to .. somewhere, but not the engine. The weird lurching I experienced on the Second Narrows was my engine trying to seize, and if that happened .. well, Lola would be dead because I can’t afford a full transmission replacement. As it is, I might be looking at one hell of a repair bill and I have no idea when I’ll get her back and it’s making me anxious and cranky.
• Cramps! I haven’t had cramps in so long I’d forgotten what they feel like. Turns out I don’t much like them!

With the exception of my scooter, the list isn’t THAT bad. My mail will get here eventually; I just need more patience. The cramps will go away. I will either find some chain tonight, or I won’t – not a big deal. And Lola .. well, I’ll find out soon. Fingers crossed that it’s just a clogged tube or something, and doesn’t require a complete rebuild.

Reminder: Heather and I will be at the Blim Market this Sunday from 12-5pm. It’ll be at Robson and Howe, as part of Picnurbia – a car-free picnic/festival in the middle of the city. Come get some Heart Shaped Blox (both regular and new fancy blinged) from me and some awesome photo cards and magnet sets from Heather, or just stop by and see the sights (and bring us Diet Coke).

I did a follow-up interview on CBC’s Connect with Mark Kelley (which I have yet to do – both times the show was hosted by someone else) about the Vancouver riots and the fact that no one has been charged with anything by the Vancouver Police Department, nearly two months later:

incredulous picture in picture

Some random thoughts:

• Yesterday morning I came THIS CLOSE to wearing the same dress I wore the last two times I did a CBC interview. Like, it was in my hand before I changed my mind at the last minute. If twice was gauche, three times would have been fucking hilarious.
• In retrospect, I kind of wish I HAD worn the dress – maybe then I wouldn’t look like a linebacker who’s let himself go. Yesterday was Monochromatic Wednesday, aka my excuse for wearing black head to toe. Perched on a black chair in the studio, I share more than a passing resemblance to a refrigerator topped with a bobblehead. Hot.
• Seriously, what’s up with the lack of charges? They’re already charging people in London, and the riots are still happening.
• Other words were supposed to go here

No time to continue my increduality – I’ve got to finish writing this maternity leave policy without using the words “infected”, “spew”, “burst forth” and “life sentence”.

My job is hard.

Vancouver is looking for a Poet Laureate! It’s a three-year position (title?) that pays a stipend of $5,000 per year. It’s not at all about the money, though – it is a Big Deal to be a Laureate of something. I’ve never been a Laureate, and while I don’t exactly meet the requirements to hold such a lofty position in the literary world, I figure it couldn’t hurt to apply. After all, I can poem. I used to poem all the time in high school, when my thoughts were deep and my allusions to my soul being dark as the moonless night sky rained heavily on my tear-streaked journals.

The eligibility criteria for the Poet Laureate position does suggest that some of your work be related to Vancouver, so in the interest of meeting the few criteria I’m actual capable of, I give you: POETRY!

vancouver (the limerick)

there once was a man on east hastings
not bogged down with logic or things
he darted through traffic
his demise was quite graphic
and now we have a speed limit of 30km/h, as if that’ll stop people from waltzing into the road all the damn time

vancouver (the haiku)

i love this city
mostly because i ignore
the triceratops

vancouver (the freestyle rap)

british columbia, y’all

6th to exist and named by the queen
we’ve got epic vistas like you’ve never fucking seen
our women are allowed to walk around topless
titties and weed, but there’s no need to obsess
we got enough to go around, don’t be so greedy
we’ll riot in the streets; our underbelly can be seedy
it’s a city of contrasts stuffed with hipsters and the rich
longboards and BMWs for all, both dripping with kitsch
yoga pants are high fashion with the small purse dog set
laugh all you want, they’re not in on the joke yet
we hosted the Olympics and we almost had the Cup
(we don’t talk about all the goals Luongo gave up)

the lower mainland
is so fucking grand
give yourselves a hand
you’re standing on crown land

Yeah, I’ve got this Laureate thing in the bag.

My momma raised me right:

she would be so proud (but mostly confused)

I was quoted in today’s 24Hrs paper with my thoughts on receiving an STD warning card. Shocked? Worried? Pfft – I would blog the HELL out of that. I’d be the most excited person who potentially had an STD ever. Alas, I am fairly confident this would never happen to me – I am not having nearly enough casual sex to be in danger of catching anything, be it a mild case of explosive labial scurvy or full-blown Super Gonorrhea. A girl can dream, though, of hilarious hypochondriac blog posts borne of a “friendly” warning that I might want to get tested due to the carefree and lusty life I lead while everyone is looking.

Today is Glass Fusing Day! Heather and I are going to a class on glass fusing this evening, where we will be making fanciful works of glassy art. I am excited to try something new and to have crafty girl hang out time with Heather, not in the least because we are going to have Five Guys for dinner beforehand (where I will try my hardest not to use my powers of being a Bad Influence on Heather to get her to come to London with Renee and I). I’m also going to be trying silk screening some time later this year – learning new stuff is neat. I have no artistic ability whatsoever, but that isn’t going to stop me from putting stuff on other stuff and seeing what happens.

Speaking of crafts, I’ll be at Picnurbia this Sunday at Robson and Howe, from 12-5 with Blim! I’ll be selling Heart Shaped Blox and Smuttons (if you ask – they won’t be on display), plus a few other things I plan to whip up between now and Sunday. Come by and support my driving desire to be able to afford to eat while I’m in London – all crafty proceeds will go towards a) my Lego minifigure addiction so I can stage more ridiculous scenes, and b) London, the adventure that will be fully documented in far too much graphic detail (right down to the number of times I forget I’m married in my goal to catch an STD to blog about).

So much going on!

okay, i will

I went to get some lunch and ended up booking a flight to London.

I also got a slice of pizza.

I am kind of in shock about this. I do not fly well – why did I just book myself into two 12-hour flights?

Oh, right: LONDON FRIGGIN’ ENGLAND

I’ve never been to Europe and I’ve always had a boner for London. A crazy seat sale and cat-sitting opportunity both materialized at the same time, and rather than waffle back and forth (or think too hard about the flight duration), I just dove in and booked the flight. Done and booked; I’m going to LONDON in just over two months for an entire week and there is going to be ADVENTURE and CAT SITTING and TOURISTING and Union Jacks on EVERYTHING and perhaps even TEA and the QUEEN and NO RIOTS (but if there are, there’s a Lego shop in Westfield I plan to make full use of).

I am both Freaking Out and So Excited I can’t sit still.

Is it too early to begin packing?