New rule – I don’t drive anything that requires a ladder to get into. I realize this means I will likely never realize my dream of monster truck ownership, but I just feel so stupid in a large vehicle. I rented a cargo van for our company picnic today, and it’s HUGE. I almost caused several accidents on my way to the office because I am not used to driving anything with such magnitude – I have a medium-sized hatchback (that I’m trying to convince Ed we should sell in exchange for an even smaller car), and a scooter. I could put both my usual rides in this thing and STILL have room for sexy rental sex times in the back. Which I hope to have. I’ve never done it in a U-Haul van before.

My favourite non-nerd-themed indie rapper has a new album coming out in September, and just released the first single for free downloading goodness – check it out here. I love me some Astronautalis, yes I do. He makes for tingling in the ear holes.

open us up and put things in us

Earlier this month I ordered the missing piece for my latest project, and I am endlessly frustrated that it hasn’t arrived yet. My missing shipment is causing a lot of little problems, all of which can be boiled down into one great big problem: my brothel can’t open.

I have decided that I have always longed for my very own Old West-style brothel, so clearly I should go about setting one up already. It shouldn’t be too difficult; all I really need is a player piano, some whiskey, and a lot of crinoline. I have these things – really, who doesn’t – so all I needed was a way to accept money for sexual favours. Reinventing the wheel is such a hassle and I have many better things to do (all of which involve learning how to shoot a dainty pearl-handled six shooter that I keep in my garter), so I thought that I would just fall back on the old standard: the cat house token system. Ladies and gentlemen of all sorts can sidle up to the bar, pay the coyly-named fee for services, and receive a token that they can then give to the girl of their choosing in exchange for carnal delights. This is an excellent plan that can only be wildly successful, but until my damn shipment arrives, I HAVE NO SEX TOKENS. Without sex tokens, there can be no SEX. You see my problem here – what’s a poor fledgling madame to do?

looking for a good time? well, you can't have one yet.

Where are my whore house coins?!

These are my demands:

• I want to be encouraged, not tolerated.
• I want mutual excitement, not feigned interest and bemused indulgence.
• I want to see the future as full of possibilities; a blank canvas waiting for life and love – not something to be merely endured until the end.
• I want partners in crime, not whispered reassurances that I probably won’t embarrass you in front of others.
• I want my feelings to be acknowledged, not scoffed at.
• I want to be comforted, not told I’m overreacting.
• I want to use my talents freely, not be given busy work because you’re afraid I’ll blindly offend for the fun of it.
• I want to be surrounded by people who love me as I am, not people who make excuses for my presence.
• I don’t EVER want to feel like trash again.
• An omelette might be nice; I’m hungry.

It was one of those weekends that had *everything* – new experiences, good times, a party, mosquito bites, serious sausage, too much hot sauce, too many tacos to count, BBQ’d meats, pigeon poop .. and a bunch of other stuff that was significantly less awesome. A flash migraine hit me on Saturday around noon as I was legoing up some John Hughes; it incapacitated me for most of the afternoon and I rather thought I was going to die. I recovered enough to go to a birthday/engagement party BBQ in Kits, which was lovely and featured two pounds of mousse in a cake. I ran errands all day Sunday in between fits of teary outrage, got pooped on by a pigeon on Granville Island, and had a delightful dinner of samosas and salad. A regular summer weekend in Vancouver; one that was long overdue and much needed (except for the bad parts).

I am in for a fairly crazy week with a long weekend to look forward to. I also just realized that I am officially booked for every weekend between now and mid-September, but I’m okay with this. Being busy keeps me out of trouble, or something.

duck butt.

But still angry. So very, very hurt and angry.

I have a lot of stuff. That’s kind of an understatement, as I don’t only have a lot of stuff but I have lots of KINDS of stuff. I don’t just have small toys, I have rooms full of them. I don’t just have a jewellery collection, I have more than I could possibly wear in a lifetime of fancy occasions. I don’t need all this stuff – but perhaps some other people might like some of my stuff.

I’m mulling the idea of having some sort of garage sale for jewellery and accessories. I have a fairly massive collection of gorgeous stuff that doesn’t get worn as often as it should, and I’m sure someone could give them a good home. This could even be a group thing – I’m sure I have friends with thing they don’t need. Thing is, I don’t have the first clue on how to have a garage sale. I don’t actually have a garage, I don’t know what stuff should cost, I don’t know how to advertise .. I’m pretty useless here. Ideally, I’d like to set up a market-style sale in which people don’t sell crafts but high-end stuff – more than a flea market, less than an estate sale. Do these things exist? Would there be any interest in either buying my stuff or selling your own? Doing it online is just a massive hassle, so it’d be a local thing. Help! how do I make this go?

downtown!

Yesterday while riding Lola to pretzels then work, I saw the saddest thing ever: a young couple walking their two pugs to Tim Hortons for coffee.

It’s sad because THAT SHOULD BE US. I want to live in Mount Pleasant. I want matching pugs; I want a partner who loves our matching pugs. I want to be free to walk to Tim Hortons at 9:30 on a Wednesday morning for coffee and donuts without a care in the world (as far as I could tell from my scooter). I want these things very badly.

Seeing pugs on the street still makes me slump with sadness. I haven’t forgotten my longing for a pug, and it hasn’t gone away – I am still sad on a regular basis that I don’t have a dog. It’s not even the injustice of not having a dog, though .. I miss having an animal that’s MINE.

Tomorrow will be two years since Sasha died, and I still miss her every day. She was my best friend, and she was always there for me. She loved ME and merely tolerated others, and I miss that so much that I still cry myself to sleep when I’m feeling unbearably lonely or sad.

I know we still have three cats, but it’s not the same. While I do love them, the relationship is different – Big Cat belongs to Ed, and everyone else is just a temporary distraction. Small Cat loves everyone, but would be just as happy to sleep on the couch for the rest of time and not move. Loud Cat is definitely coming around and he gets more fun as his personality expands past “grumpy pain in the ass”, but .. it’s not the same. Sasha was loud and ornery and pushy, but she was also fiercely loyal, cuddly, and .. mine. I miss her. I miss having my own animal. It’s what I want, even more than a pug or all the kittens in the world – an animal companion that I had the same kind of connection with; who made me feel as though I could handle anything as long as I had them by my side. I know it’s silly and goes dangerously close to the idea of familiars and spirit animals and my own personal Guenhwyvar, but .. it is what it is.

Will a pug fix the hole in my heart? Another cat, another calico? I honestly don’t know. All I DO know is that I am lonely and I need .. something. Anyone have a something I can have?

i even miss this