I should have stayed on the couch this morning.
Today licks, and it’s not even 9:30.
A company I interviewed with some time ago (Job C, for those who read the Secret Post) emailed me today to say I didn’t get the job. This is fine, since I’m crazy about where I am now. However, the LAST time that particular company emailed me, it was to say I hadn’t been short listed for an interview – and a day later, they called me to set one up.
I figure they’ll call me tomorrow to tell me I start on Monday.
Too bad for them I’ll be eyeball deep in LOL SPORTS!
A girl could get used to being in demand.
I had forgotten that pollution in the UK is much worse than at home – multiple times noses were blown, only to discover the contents were now black with soot and grime. Ewww!
In direct contrast to the icky imagery above, one particular part of yesterday was surreal – it felt like we were in a movie. We had just gotten off the train and were walking down a long, gleaming tunnel to our connection; the air hazy with .. steam? A smoke machine? Magic? A man with a beautiful voice and a guitar busked along our path; his music echoing throughout the chamber like an ethereal post-production soundtrack. We walked 3 abreast in misty slo-mo silence down the tunnel, internally marveling at the fact that we were a million miles from home in a land we only knew from Dickens and Blyton – this was real yet so unreal, and there was no other place we wanted to be.
At least, that’s what was going through MY mind – for all I know, the other girls were singing the Meow Mix song in their heads. My inner monologue runs more melodramatic than I usually let on (mostly because it’s hard to write about dongs in flowery Harlequinesq prose without using the words “turgid” or “meat baton”), but the situation called for more romance than usual. It’s okay once in a while. If I start dreamily waxing poetic about laundry or shoes, it’ll be time to rein myself in.
There are SO MANY scooters and motorcycles in London! It’s amazing (look at them all!) and enviable (I wish I had Lola here) and hilarious (HAH they have to wear a giant L, much bigger than the L/N in BC) and infuriating (they drive like jerks – so much lane splitting) and cozy (everyone wears a riding skirt to keep their nethers warm). Squee!
We are stuffed from lunch, but have made an executive decision to order dessert. It is essential to have spotted dick while in London – the curved dick we’ve had in Canada just doesn’t count.
We made Heather order it, as she was the most likely to do so without giggling. She did admirably – Heather is excellent at spotted dick!
In England, a “gentleman’s club” is not a euphemism for a strip joint.
Heather and I have the same classy reaction to seeing things we’ve only read about in books: “holy fucking shit it’s Westminster goddamn Abbey”
So, I’m posting this stuff – I think – but I can’t actually read it. The 3 3G network has blocked my website as “restricted adult content”, and I’d have to be able to prove my age to access it. I can’t (it won’t accept a NA credit card and I don’t have an account), so I’m SOL until we hit wifi. That’s right – my blog is SO INAPPROPRIATE that it has to be shielded from the general UK public. *snort*
thank you for protecting me from myself
My accomplishment for the day: being allowed into Harrods, where I bought a glitter crow. Yeah, you jealous.
We were out for 12 hours today. I think we have both seen and purchased all of London. We are too tired to eat, and flopping listlessly about the flat. Miss Cleo senses our exhaustion and is being very friendly – I think she is planning on eating us.
H&M in London sells clothes for fat girls! Sure, the section is small and in the basement and hidden in a back corner so no one has to look at us, but they do have clothing larger than a size 6! I bought a shirt. It was three pounds. Hooray!
My team and I – henceforth to be known as the Ministry of Love – had an off-site meeting on Friday, where we used business buzzwords in real sentences and planned our goals for the next six months. After the official work was done and the official salads eaten, it was time to build the team – we pulled glass! We went to Granville Island, where we visited the glass studio and made our own glass flowers. They had to temper for a while afterwards, so we couldn’t take them with us – but my co-worker (to be known as RPG because he is Rated PG) will pick them up for us and soon we will have flowers! Made of glass! So fun – I’ve always wanted to try it, and I’m giving a serious thinking about taking glass blowing class. The Granville Island class is $500, but it would be fun. And molten. Something to think about, anyway.
Set free early on a gorgeous Friday afternoon, I convinced Ed to bail out of work early and we headed for the border. We made surprisingly good time over it with minimal probing, and were on the interstate by 5:30. Not wanting to interrupt Kid’s Movie Night at Ali’s house (and to lessen the temptation to eat the guests), we killed some time at the Seattle Outlets. I successfully stopped Ed from buying a $900 Burberry raincoat (to be fair it was on sale; the original price was $1200), so I celebrated by buying ruffled panties and 3 completely adorable dresses at 75% off. With time sufficiently killed, we drove south into Kenmore and to Ali and Doug’s place in the ‘burbs.
It’s not quite 7pm, but our Saturday has been chockfull of random goodness – waffles! Penis coffee! Hugs from Uncle Goat! Collecting the half dozen or so packages I shipped to Ali’s house because it was impossible or insane to ship to Canada! Being fed stinky balls and a cow that tooted in my mouth! Hours of colouring with River; I drew a unicorn and a tiger and a trio of flamingos and also several killer bees with which to terrorize Ed! All coloured out, it was time to head into town. I got to go with Doug in the Tesla Roadster, which was insanely awesome – with Ed, Ali and the girls traveling behind in the non-Tesla, we headed to Lunchbox Laboratory for some gourmet burger goodness. We’re already huge fans of Built Burger, but as they’re only open on weekdays, we tried LL. How can you not love a joint that sells Tang and Kool-Aid on tap; serves tater-tots and Satan Ketchup? Pretty sure you can’t, so we fell in line pretty quick. So good. Why Vancouver can’t have places like that I’ll never know. Oh, and I’m almost positive Roseanne was eating in the booth next to us. Famous people like delicious meat too, after all.
I’m really tired – I got up at 7am for quality visiting time after a great sleep on the split-personality mattress – and I’m kind of thinking the giant octopus pillow in the corner is looking pretty sweet. After I nap, I’m going to move in. I love Seattle – I’d move here in a second if I could. Vancouver wouldn’t miss me.
Zzzzzzzz.
I had always joked that I needed an Enhanced Driver’s License in case of emergency – if I ever needed to make an impromptu run for the border, I’d be able to do so at the drop of a hat. Therein lies the joke, see – what could possibly be an emergency that required leaving the country? Being out of Trader Joe’s trail mix is a terrible thing, but hardly an emergency. I would almost accept being desperate for good Mexican food, but if it were truly a matter of life and death, there are some passable places in Vancouver that are much easier to get to. And as much as we love Target for some reason, we don’t go there out of necessity – so what could be so critical that an unplanned expedition into the wilds of small town America has to happen immediately, with no time to fetch passports or ammo?
How about a motorcycle accident, with a (slightly) broken Josh?
Josh left Canada on Thursday to go riding/camping/being in Oregon for a while. He camped south of Mount Vernon on Camero Island for the night, but took a spill on his bike when heading out Friday morning and ultimately broke his collarbone. The bike is fine, but he was in a sling and trapped in a small town hospital (where they were amazed that he wasn’t on meth). We got word around noon that he needed rescuing, and we quickly took stock of our group: Shan was at work (with no passport), and couldn’t leave as she was the only one in the office – she wouldn’t be able to get Josh until the end of the day and after she had gone home to get ID and the van. Ed was in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal at work and crazy busy; it would be extremely difficult if not impossible for him to leave. Then there was me – I had my EDL, I drove the car into work that day to “run errands” (read: I was late and lazy), and have an awesome boss who would very likely understand the situation. I could be on the road in 4 minutes – just say the word. After some frantic calls back and forth and a quick talk with my boss (who wasn’t happy about my bailing but I’m making up the time in the office this afternoon to finish some work), I left the office at 12:30 to drive south and rescue Josh.
It was a long day, but I had Josh home by 9pm and in one piece. Travel insurance is a beautiful thing, and AAA/BCAA worked together to get his bike to the border and then to his house. We didn’t get axe murdered in the forest, met a real live Forest Ranger, saw a family of deer, and stopped at the duty-free for booze (Josh) and a huge bag of Urban Decay products (75% off cannot be beat). It took 410km and untold amounts of roaming long distance cell minutes, but he’s home and in a sling and full of prescription narcotics and that’s all that matters. I’m glad I was able to help out by getting him home, and thumb my nose at the naysayers who said the EDL is ridiculous – neener neener, there is too such a thing as an emergency run to the border, so there.
I have Secret Errands to run today, then I’m going into the office to finish some documentation I promised I’d have done yesterday afternoon. Sorry, guy – broken friend trumps making life easier for another company’s Help Desk, but I gotcha covered.
hooray for not being axe murdered!
oh deer!
GROWL! Smash! I am angry! In a fit of ironic passive aggressive rage, I vomit up a public diatribe about “you” – you’re a waste of flesh and bone who should fuck off and die in a fire! I hate you so hard I could just shit toothpaste and tacos! I’m so done with you! Go fuck yourself, you unnamed sack of donkey balls! Graaawr!
You’re impressed with my ability to tell it like it is, so you “like” my hateful rant. You go, girl! I’m so there with you! You sure can tell it like it is! You may not know who “you” is, but you sure wouldn’t want to be that person! Phew!
Now, just for a second, imagine that “you” is someone you actually know; someone who knows very well that the violent outburst was directed at them personally. Imagine that person reading the vicious words, then seeing your “like”s and gleeful solidarity. How would that make you feel? Would you regret the cheerful bandwagoning? Would you be taken aback by the anger; be dismayed or disgusted that someone wouldn’t think twice about loudly, publicly, arrogantly, ironically, passive aggressively spewing verbal magma about a mutual acquaintance? Or would you do it all over again – they’re just saying what everyone thinks! Right on, sister! Do it loud and do it proud!
How would you feel if you knew it was about you?
I bet it wouldn’t feel very good. I bet it would really hurt; seeing that much rage and baffling hatred aimed right at you – then watching silently as people you know and like agree with the spiteful and cruel sentiments. Do they feel that way too? Are they really your friends at all?
I bet it would totally suck.
I’m just guessing, though.
delicious juice dot com 