I love it when a plan comes together

It was pissing when I got up this morning (at 7:20) and I almost went back to bed. But I didn't because today was a monumental day. Today was my last long run. It was a 16k run at race pace and I ran it hard. The clinic instructor looked at me quizzically afterwards and intoned, "So are you still thinking you're going to do a 4 hour marathon?" to which I said "Yes". Okay, obviously I want to do a significantly faster marathon and oh, say, qualify for Boston, but it's my first ever marathon, it's in a different city, I have to travel to get there and there are so many variables that it's hard to say how I'll do. Variables like, you know, bleeding which happened to me today. Got a sweet blister on my heel which subsequently popped and then for I don't even know how many kilometres I bled onto the heel of my new shoes. I didn't even know I was bleeding until someone pointed it out. Eep.
Hung out afterwards for a coffee after our clinic leader made me feel really guilty (and bought me said coffee). It was nice. It sort of dawned on me that this is it. In one week I will be in Kelowna, having a shit fit at the start line at 8am as I wonder "what in the hell was I thinking when I signed up for this??". Yep. Oh my god. What have I done?
Didn't look at one single condo today, though my realtor called me. TWICE. She was telling me about an assignment in a building that I was interested in and I said, "Yeah. I'm really not going to have any time to look into it until I get back from my vacation in mid October" and she said, "Well, I guess we can see if it's still there" and I said, "Whatever". I have a sneaking suspicion that there is more than one condo out there for me. And that the real estate market is going to edge downwards in the winter months.
Visited Michael in North Van. He was prepared for my arrival with Polysporin and cleaned the blood out of my shoes while I was in the shower. You know you have a true friend in someone that will clean blood out of your footwear. We went shopping at Park Royal of all things. I said, "Why are you making me do this? It's a rainy Sunday, everyone and their dog is going to be shopping" and lo, everyone and their dog was. I hate shopping. And then the power went down a couple of times and there was a huge line up at the Bay because only three tills were back up and running (Big D: we totally thought about you and wondered if you were getting alerts today!) and the lineups were gigantic - but so were the savings! - so we toughed it out. And they broke out chocolates to appease the angry masses. I had three. Whatever. You run 16k in the rain with a bloody foot. I am entitled!
Then I watched television because he has Cable. With a capital "C". The news came on and I remember why I don't have Cable. We watched an episode of Family Guy and then I was like, "Yeah, I think I'm good" and turned it off.
That's pretty much it. A very, very low key weekend. I am also going to shoot for a very low key week. Try not to bloody up any more shoes. Avoid purchasing condos. Okay. So this was a really boring blog and I'm going to go make my lunch now. Aren't you glad you tuned in?

The status quo

I just watched "A Good Year" avec Russell Crowe. It was horrific. I would still discard all clothing for him in a heartbeat. Holy sweet Jesus, he is a fine sight. And I want to move to France.
I will run with a hangover tomorrow. It won't be the first time, unfortunately. The wine... ah, the bottle so far away. It was superb. An Argentinian Shiraz blend. Will give further details when I am so inclined. "The Last Time I Saw Richard" by Joni Mitchell is also superb.
Have I mentioned I love my life? I do think I have. I didn't do much today. I watched the movie earlier. I have been working on "Oryx and Crake" by my ultimate author: Margaret Atwood. I can hardly put it down. It's raining, but it's comfortable and cozy inside my apartment. I don't want to ever leave here. It's quiet and everything is the way I want it and I can find my way around in the dark.
Really. Do not rent "A Good Year". It was absolutely awful.
I do believe I have done next to nothing for over 24 hours. Can I get a frickin' gold star or something?
Bonne nuit, mes amis.

Stranger than fiction

I just watched "Stranger than Fiction" and I am still crying. Please don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain.
Do you ever think that you are just entirely missing the point of life?
And then comes the inevitable question: what is the point of life? I think I know what the point of life is, for me anyways. But I cannot achieve it because I am surrounded by a rigid structure that I don't subscribe to and that I didn't create. I wasn't invited to the meeting that dictated what a "normal" life should be and what trappings we should all aspire to.
And I have the most non-tangible, unimportant and made up job there is: accounting. It isn't really necessary. I remit VAT to HM Customs and Excise in the UK. I calculate how much Washington State Tax to pay. It's important that I correctly depreciate our assets over 36 or say 48 months, otherwise when we succumb to our annual audit (which is when a bunch of people come in and make sure that these numbers that I put forth as "facts" are irrefutably correct and tie into the veritable rules of accounting, because something cannot exist unless there are rules that must apply to it) I will have to make journal entries to correct my mistakes. My horrible, life altering and unbelievable mistakes.
I know that my life is best when I'm on lunch, a coffee break. It's really good after 4pm and it's absolutely fantastic in the time span from Friday night to early Monday morning. I wonder: why can't reading be my full time job? I lament that I will never see all the art, architecture, listen to all the music, see all the films, read all the literature and travel to all the places that will undoubtedly influence my life and make me appreciate it more. I have to pay taxes. I have to remember my swipe card to get into work. I can't be late for things. I have to reward people that were born with attractive features, people that lied and cheated to get where they are, people that have expensive educations but no compassion for others, with my respect because that's how it's set up.
But it's like BC Hydro. You can't get off the grid. I don't want to work. I want to spend hours talking to people that have something interesting to say. I want to spend all day at the art gallery. I'd like to not have the immediate knee jerk reaction that someone is a loser, poser, deadbeat, weirdo because they look, dress or act differently than everyone else.
What if we could all do what we wanted to do? What would the world be like then?
Oh god, I am opening up a huge can of worms. Because if everyone did what they wanted to do then no work would get done, we wouldn't have food or clean water and those people that liked to abuse children and animals would do that because for every good and pure thing there has to be something malicious and nefarious. For every me there is someone like me who is unfailingly happy and will change the world and accomplish amazing things and there is someone else who is fighting for survival and has experienced immeasurable anguish. I understand. It's an infinite balancing act.
You know, conversations like this are really difficult to have by oneself. I'm amazed I have friends. Do you think I'm crazy? I'll let you know when I start to hear a voice over as I'm brushing my teeth.
That was such a good movie.

People like me

I'm not sure why, but they do.
Had a pissy day. Feeling dejected over the latest condo debacle. I'm really tired and haven't had the opportunity to sleep in since I don't remember when. I'm rather unmotivated at work. And yet people seemed to be destined to make my life that much brighter today. It's like I had been storing some good karma for a rainy day or something.
I went shopping with a couple of coworkers at lunch. Another one of my coworkers gave me a cookie. I love those! Then I launched into another engrossing conversation with a fellow member of the environmental committee and we shared all sorts of great and uplifting ideas. I actually walked away from the conversation feeling "charged". A guy checked me out at Pac Centre (I must say I was looking rather bohemian/european with my wrap and my leather satchel). Then I had a lengthy conversation with the CFO and he freaked me out by showing me videos of his son on Facebook. I was like, "You're on Facebook?". I mean, it's great and the videos were really funny, but somehow I never thought I would be peering over the CFO's shoulder and looking at his Facebook profile. Actually, one of them was so funny I said he should send it in to America's Funniest Videos or something, though we both agreed that it kind of bordered on cruelty to children. Which, you know, is always good for a laugh. Saw this old couple on the bus (I mean older than dirt) and they were so sweet. It took them forever to disembark, but the driver was very patient and they thanked him at least twice. And then, when they made it to the sidewalk and the bus driver was closing the doors they actually waved at him. I thought I might cry. But instead I went to Rogers to get some flicks. Where I bumped into L, who I haven't seen in ages. So she and I chatted for fifteen minutes: it's her birthday tomorrow! Then I went to the liquor store because, well, I like liquor. I walked in and there was a guy giving away samples of something and he's like, "Hey. Movie night?" and I was like, "Gee, thanks for pointing out the fact that I'm alone, I have three DVDs tucked under my arm and I'm intent to get soused by myself on a Friday night because I have recurring dreams of cats eating my face and the alcohol helps me fall into a fitful sleep until, at three am, I wake up screaming in a bed soaked with sweat". Okay, I didn't say that. I said, "Yeah," cause I'm a consummate conversationalist. Then he asked me what I got! I was thinking, um, don't you have hard booze to flog? But no, we end up launching into a three or four minute conversation about Quentin Tarantino. It was weird. As I was leaving I waved at him and said, "See ya,". When am I going to see him again? Likely never. Human interaction is fun. People are nice.
So I watched "Confetti" which, of course, no one has ever heard of. It was good. It was a British mockumentary about three couples competing to have the most original wedding in order to win a house. It had the main character from the BBC office who I quite adore. I guess it was a bit old hat for me since I've seen "Best in Show", "Waiting for Guffman", etc, etc (I even saw "A Mighty Wind" when they came to the Queen E: effing hilarious). But it was still funny, poignant and entertaining. Weddings. Such a weird and surreal occasion. Like Vegas. It's a non-reality. Maybe that's why people get married when they're in Vegas.
I still want to get married. It's corny, I know. But I also understand that it doesn't really signify anything. It's in the details. It's in the phone calls. It's waiting for you at the airport. The jokes that only the two of you get. It's never having to worry about getting Christmas present that screams "I really don't know who you are, and I thought you might really enjoy this Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt". It's not getting flowers on Valentine's Day, because that's trite, but rather getting them on your last day on the job that had slowly been driving you insane. It's the feeling that you get from someone who is your biggest advocate and supporter, whether it's running an unimpressive 52 minute 10k, or graduating from college. I'm just throwing out random items that might conceivably be possible occurrences in the lives of others of course.
I wax poetic.
There is a large, ominous bug in my living room.
It was likely attracted by my numerous couches.

And... we're done

Yeah. So $300 later I had a P. Eng inspect the place and tell me what my "spidey senses" had been telling me all along: there's been quite a bit of movement in this building for a reason. That reason would be the looming $900,000 assessment. Right. So fuck off, I'm not playing this game any more.
I look forward to not doing any more real estate deals, getting a good night's sleep (sans condo nightmares), not having to go to Kinko's in my pajamas, not having to read reams of strata minutes, running when I want to versus when I can fit it in, having a brilliant marathon, having an even more brilliant vacation replete with too much food and wine and sleep, whereupon I will return to a significantly depressed real estate market and I will name my price.
The silver lining? It was great to see my parents. They loved Lower Lonsdale as I suspected they would. They bought me dinner (again, which I suspected they would). And, because I knew my dad would shun public transit, they drove so I got a lift back to my pad. Sweet.
So tired. So emotionally drained. I want a hug. From a tall, attractive, well dressed and nice smelling man. And I want a good night's sleep. With a tall, attractive, well undressed and nice smelling man. Oh. Did I write that? The delete button is so far away.
The Vancouver real estate market can kiss my athletic ass.

"Shut up," he explained.

That's the best line ever.
M just gave me some music that he thinks will help me run faster. Most of it looks good, though I was kind of disturbed that there's a Kelly Clarkson song in there.

Soy milk

Soya milk is actually pretty good. Also, last night I dreamed that I had appendicitis. Who dreams that? Also dreamed that my boss was working on a strategy to prevent the CEO of the company from shaving his head.
Right. Meeting up with my parents after work: they are going to attend the home inspection with me. I hope that my parents, the realtor, the home inspection guy and I can all fit into the condo at one time.
I'm tired. Not half as tired as Typewriter appeared to be last night, but tired still. Maybe it's a byproduct of hanging around me. I'm exhausting. I exhaust myself.
Have a most productive and happy day everyone.

Flying to Pakistan.

In the action-packed field of Information Technology, technicians and engineers improve business productivity, do more with less, occasionally break down the very nature of time and space, and sometimes, we learn about flying to Pakistan.

My morning began with a phone call at 6:13 am. It was a wrong number, technically, and I said as much, but the caller insisted in pursuing his line of questioning. You see, there was a time when I had done some consulting for a few companies in the Lower Mainland and my cell phone number is in the Rolodex of a number of executive assistants and harried office managers. So anyway, this morning, 6:13, the phone call.

"Our networks are down and I need you to come in and fix them."

This is not the sort of early morning greeting one would like to receive, especially from a guy named Tony.

I tried the easy out first, "Sorry chief, you've got the wrong number."

Tony was not to be deterred. "Aren't you that guy who fixed our network back in the summer 0f 2005?"

I was committed to the "wrong number" route at this point and saw no reason to change course. I ended the call firmly, but politely and got ready for work.

My real job is a good one, I work for a great company in a fun industry that in many ways, is like putting a fat kid in charge of a cake factory - let your imagination run wild. The problem is that in this fast-paced industry, priorities change like gas prices and that project that wasn't due till November is suddenly needed yesterday. In this case, it was the damn disk array, six and a half terabytes of fiber optic-connected storage that a team of engineers, artists, and finance professionals would need to store their content, documents, and videos of cats doing amusing things. Typically, this would take a month to get working, but instead it was up and running in about the time it would take to fly to Pakistan.

After thirty hours of being locked in the server room, it is 8:52 on Wednesday morning, I'm on my second cup of coffee and watching the blinking lights of our new disk array pulse and flicker and hopefully, not crash.

I'm Just Ben.

I'm going to bed

Yeah, it's nine o'clock. I don't care. I do what I want. Maybe I will brush my teeth and then have another cookie. How ya like me now?
For the two of you that read my blog: I have sent you an invite to become a member. Should you choose to become a member you can then have the ability to post (loving and caring) comments on my blog. If you don't, I will drive over (to Granville and 14th) and kick your ass. I will do this after I brush my teeth but before I eat my cookie.

Chocolate, flowers and wine

Yeah. Let me try and remember the last time a man brought me flowers. No, I don't think my memory can stretch back that far. Today I got flowers and chocolate (so I bought the wine myself, whatever). Plus, I was told that I looked great. It was the ninja outfit, I'm quite sure. Perhaps Big D was afraid that I might get out my poison tipped throwing stars or something so he was like, "Shit! Here's some chocolate!" and then while I happily played with it and got it all over my face and in my hair he tried to talk me down from my perch that overlooks the intersection of Stress Avenue and Anxiety Street. And we had sushi. And we watched "Priscilla: Queen of the Desert". I want to be a drag queen.
I currently have an accepted offer on a condo on First Street in North Van, so here we go again with the hoop jumping and paperwork extravaganza. I missed a call from my realtor when I was watching the movie with Big D and she left me a message asking me to call her and she sent me an email as well saying she has some info she wants to share with me. I couldn't reach her, so now I am going to lie awake as I mull over all this "info" that she wanted to share with me: their are bats in the belfry; the balconies are one step away from falling off; it's built on an old Indian burial ground; there's a monumental flea infestation; or possibly the building is starting to lean slightly. Yeah, I'll have some good dreams tonight. All I want is for the minutes to be issue free and for me to show up for the home inspection (wearing something bright and frothy with a boa and stilettos and a ridiculous amount of eye makeup and glittery lipstick) and have the inspector declare that everything is fabulous and then we'll all have cocktails with umbrellas in them on my balcony and discuss where the best place to get a mani pedi is in Lower Lonsdale.
Is that so much to ask? Is it?? And who put all these goddamn couches in my living room! What, do they come here to die or something?

I like sambal green beans

That is all.

Happy ninja!

I am a ninja. Where is my couch?

What a frickin' morning. Clearly kismet does not want me to have a good night's sleep. Got up a little before nine this morning, since the couch was supposed to be delivered by 10 o'clock. Checked my email, got a rather apropos email from Big D (who, of course, was up an hour earlier than me). Heard a bit of a racket outside: there are some guys doing work on the exterior of my building and they started at nine. I am wearing my cool new yoga pants, which are black, along with a black long sleeved shirt. I bet they think I'm a ninja. A lazy, book reading, bagel eating ninja.
Then I look outside: it's a sunny and glorious day. I can't go back to bed when it's like that! And I have a six kilometre run to get in. Oh, now the people outside are scraping something. And the scissor lift makes a run sound like a cake mixer. I'd like some cake. Where's my couch? Here couchy, couchy.
So I read a little, have some coffee, try and ignore the people working directly outside my windows and it's 10 o'clock. I get a call and oh! they're running late and will likely be here at 10:30 or 10:45. Well thanks. I'm so glad I got up at nine am for this. I have ONE DAY per week to sleep in and they blew it for me. I'm napping today, I don't care. Don't question it.
Anyways, the woman is confirming my address and I give her my suite number and she says, "So you have an elevator and all that?" and I say, "No, they'll have to carry the couch to the second floor," and she scoffs, "They? It's me and my husband". Well, cry me a goddamn river! Not all apartments have elevators and the 106 year old on the third floor seems to be able to handle it. Plus, I've moved my gigantic couch up and down those stairs. Okay, I didn't, but I did a damn good job supervising it and therefore I know it can be done. Ninjas don't move couches.
Where is my couch?

Oh yeah....

My couch comes tomorrow. Too early, of course, but it will be here nonetheless. Should you wish to come over and play on my two couches and love seat, please let me know as I can accomodate your request for one week: until my beloved brother comes to pick up my old couch.

Bye old couch! I will miss your enviable length. And substantial girth. Ah... so single it hurts.

How far would you go for a friend?

Literally. M just indicated that if I moved to Lower Lonsdale I would effectively be ostracizing myself. He’s like, “Sure, move there… if you want to be alone”. We talked about the mental barrier of the water. And yes, the bridges suck, but I would be taking public transit. He said, “But what if you want to drive somewhere?” and I said, “Drive somewhere? Where would I drive?”. He asked where my friends lived and I said Kits, Kerrisdale, downtown and he said, “Yeah. They won’t come visit you. The east side is where it’s at. The east side is the new west side”. Words of wisdom.
I like to think people will visit me. I’m not totally committed to Lower Lonsdale, but I do enjoy all that it has to offer. Especially the waitresses at Tantra, with their unbelievable eye make up and clothing that displays ample bosoms and their expensively streaked and bleached hair. The women there mesmerize me. It’s like they have just stepped off the pages of Playboy and yet… they are always soooo nice. It’s quite odd. I recommend Tantra. How did I get onto this subject? And why do I feel the sudden urge to get highlights and bigger boobs?
Anyways. Nothing much else is shaking. Oh! Except for all the cop cars that went screaming down Seymour as I was trying to get to work. Seriously, four of them plus a wagon were parked on Seymour just north of Hastings. I started to get a little worried as I was crossing the street, thinking that maybe I was about to be embroiled in a “police incident” or something. I just wasn’t in the mood to see, you know, an unarmed man get shot to death in front of me. You know how it goes. So I get to work and a coworker that lives in North Van (hey – maybe he would visit me!) was there and I thought maybe he had passed by the debacle so I said (as he was trying to scarf down his breakfast from Tim Hortons), “Hey, did you see all the cops on your way in?”. He indicated he hadn’t. I told him that they had all parked, ironically, in front of the Tim Hortons at Harbour Centre. And he was, conspicuously, eating food from said establishment. He said he hadn’t seen them. Odd. I think he’s wrapped up in some kind of government conspiracy involving the parity of our dollar and over inflated real estate prices. Or maybe he was just at a different Tim Hortons since there are three in walking distance. We mulled it over and decided that the likely scenario was that all the cops converged at Tim Hortons because they know when they put fresh donuts out.
And such concludes my sound bashing of Vancouver’s finest. Let the cavity searches when I attempt to fly or cross borders commence!

Random things

Yesterday I was walking past reception and the receptionist said, "Bless you" and I said, "what?" and she said, "you sneezed, so I said 'Bless you'" and I said, "I didn't sneeze". So now we randomly say "Bless you" to one another.
I just shook M's magic 8 ball and asked it "Will I buy a property this year?" and it said, "Very doubtful". Then I shook it again and said, "Should I buy a property this year?" and it said, "Don't count on it". I had to hear it from the 8 ball to believe what the Vancouver-real-estate-is-over-inflated camp has been saying for months.
I was talking to another coworker and he's totally in love and he said, "Things are going really well", so like the idiot simian I am I mimicked him horribly and whinged, "Things are going really well" and he looked at me in an alarmed fashion, so by way of apology I said, "the bitterness looks good on me, eh?" and he said, "Yeah, it really brings out the jaded".
Also? Where's my goddamn couch?

It's done

Saw the final two condos. Didn't buy either. Now for the aforementioned hiatus. Yes. To celebrate the winding down of my heretofore frenetic life I am drinking too many TsingTao beers, reading a Dean Koontz novel (in which the heroine drank TsingTao beer while eating Chinese, which led to my whole TsingTao debacle in the first place) and listening to my tunes. On rotation tonight: "Brian Wilson" by the Barenaked Ladies; "A Matter of Trust" by Billy Joel (oh hell yeah, I'm going old school); "To Love Somebody" by my beloved Blue Rodeo (um, this song will absolutely play at my wedding which will be... never, but anyways); speaking of... "But Anyways" by Blue Traveller. "Shiver" - Coldplay. "Everything's Not Lost" - Coldplay. "Time and Time Again" - Counting Crows (best fucking song ever): I wanted so badly somebody other than me, staring back at me but you were gone/I wanted to see you walking backwards, and get the sensation of you coming home/I wanted to see you walking away from me, without the sensation of you leaving me alone.
Oh, and I've solved the whole condo dilemma. See, secretly? I don't want to leave my place. Yeah sure, water has been known to spring from light fixtures. And yes, they did have to hack into my wall, leaving it exposed for such a long time that I set up a Facebook profile, documented the whole mess, and then deleted said profile. And perhaps when I came home today at 4:50pm they had cut the power to the building to do... something, but I don't care. I love my apartment. I love my street. I love Kerrisdale. So I want to buy my suite from the owners. I know this cannot be done: I'd have to buy the whole building. I wonder how much that would cost?
Also, sitting is rather painful today. Yes, I would make an excellent Catholic (for the guilt complex people, the guilt complex). Yesterday, as I mentioned, I stayed home because I was sick. I made myself stay in bed for several hours. I did not talk on the phone. I emailed a couple of people. I left my apartment once. Yeah, by 7 o'clock I was having an apoplectic fit because I hadn't gone for my run. I mean, I couldn't run: I was sick and it was raining. So what do I do? Yeah, I bring out the free weights and work out in my apartment for 35 minutes. It was a feat of utter hilarity. Mr. Bean has nothing on me. I haven't hit a gym in months and I attempted to do some push ups. I used to be able to do about 10 boy push ups. Yesterday I managed to do 20 GIRL push ups before relegating myself to the final ten pushing off from my living room wall. WEAK. I did 30 dips for my triceps and I could barely take my shirt off when I got home today. I did lunges and I cringe every time I sit or bend down. I feel like I've been kicked down a flight of concrete stairs. It's awesome. For some reason my abs are fine. Running must do something to the stabilizing muscles. Of all the things that I could be addicted to (okay, of all the things that I am addicted to: booze, coffee, drugs, reading, sex, cartoons, music, blogging and laughing), being addicted to exercise is pretty sweet. It helps balance out the bad addictions (you know, reading and such).
"Something So Strong" - Crowded House (live version, of course). God, it's a regular party of one in my apartment tonight. "Haywire" - the JayHawks (everyone should go out and buy "The Sound of Lies", totally underappreciated and relatively unknown band that is one of my all time faves). "Blue" - the JayHawks. "All I Want" - Joni Mitchell (I know I've mentioned this before, but goddamn).
I'm in such a good mood. Why am I in such a good mood? Why do I have to work tomorrow? Mmmm... I like my music. We should have a super happy double monkey luck funtime board game night at my place one of these nights. I was going to save it for the inevitable housewarming, but Christ only knows when the hell that will happen. I mean that in the best possible way of course.

Skytrain economics

I love economics. Specifically, I love the micro economics surrounding the businesses on the Granville Skytrain line. See, they’re hurting. Rather badly. Take 5 Café, which is at the base of my building: they are now offering $2 lattes every day. Even I can afford that, and I’m impoverished. $2 lattes make me happy. There was also a huge sale at Sears today (not sure whether this is a result of the diminished foot traffic due to construction), but I made out like a bandit. I now have stylish clothes that fit me. Usually it’s one or the other. I have this weird penchant for buying clothes that are too big for me. I used to be chubby and so when I try on clothes and I can do up the buttons on a size 6 pant I buy it. It rarely occurs to me to try a size 4, or in today’s instance a size 2. This is why my pants sometimes start to fall down when I run. It makes for awkward situations. And I can’t carry my keys or too much change in my pockets, because that’s just a recipe for disaster.
That’s about it. Just enjoying my $2 latte. Will have time to have a quick bite to eat before meeting with my realtor at 6pm. May have time for a quick run, but I doubt it. Grabbed a latte with a coworker who was saying that his Friday is going to be corny because him and his girlfriend are going to play board games with other couples. Okay, to me that’s kind of an ideal Friday night; I guess it wasn’t when I was 26 and I forgive him that, but he makes me feel old sometimes. I didn’t tell him that I was secretly envious of his upcoming corny night. It’s okay. I’ll have fun with a bottle of wine and some Solitaire. No really, it’s good. I’ll get all dressed up in my new cool clothes and, you know, maybe have tea with my stuffed rabbit or something.
I’m kidding. I kid because I love. And because I’m full of latte.

Ugh. Longest week EVER.

Was sick from work yesterday. Spent a lot of time sleeping. Went to the Fedex place on 41st in my pajamas to fax the release for the property on Cornwall. An awful lot of people in Vancouver have seen my in my pajamas lately. Thank goodness my definition of "pajamas" are really just old yoga pants and a t-shirt. No, I'm not showing up places in silk and satin with those saucy little mules on my feet.
Nothing new to report. Stored my summer clothes and brought out my fall "collection". I need to go shopping. I will perhaps do this on my lunch break. Roots has a sale on yoga pants and I do need a new pair. Need business type clothing too, though I'm sure none of the men would complain if I came to work in my little work out pants and did a couple of downward dog poses. Dirty birds.

I'm so busy...

... that I haven't even had time to bite my nails. My hands look fabulous. I'm thinking about possibly getting a french manicure to complete the look.
So where did I leave off? Ah yes, membranes. I reviewed the minutes some more and though the idea of living across from the beach and enjoying hardwood floors, granite counter tops and the cool bed that I wrote into the offer, I will have to pass on the carpenter ants, upcoming roof assessment and the myriad of membrane problems. So I am now zero for two on the property front. That's okay, it's a learning experience. I learned... something. Like to always have my cell charged and a Powerbar in my purse, because who knows when you might have to spend five hours looking at condos. I need a break.
I've been dealing with it well though. Yeah, skin's a mess, I'm repeating the same conversations to the same people and I'm not sleeping too well. Big D called last night and he was like, "Hi, how's it-" and I said, "I CAN'T TALK NOW!" and he's like, "Oooookay, just checking in to -" and I was like "Oh my god! Ahhhhhh!" and he's like, "You sound busy" and was probably thinking: if you're so damn busy, why are you answering the phone? Which is a good point. It just doesn't stop ringing. It rings and rings and people tell me all these things and then I have to write them down because I don't know whether I'm coming or going. Cancel the home inspection, follow up with the mortgage broker, prove this, provide that, read this, sign here.
It's okay. Just two more condos this week. I sound like an addict. Just two more then I'll stop. Frick. Really, after this week I am putting the search on hiatus until I finish my marathon. Then I am going to enjoy the HELL out of my subsequent vacation, at which point I will return refreshed, fit, and condo free. And I won't pick up running so I'll get fat, and I'll inadvertently buy a rotter. Yay.
In other news... I actually don't have any news. I have no life. That's incorrect: JupiterGirl is coming into town with her boyfriend this weekend so there will be a dinner in her honor. And I can stay out past ten because I only have to run 23k the next day. That's NOTHING. Then I shall see Po and hopefully N at some point, maybe Friday night? Maybe Big D on Sunday if I promise to take a Valium before showing up. Perhaps I'll have time to fit in that french manicure.
Oh, and Michael just called and I said, "Why are you calling?" which is really polite and he said, "Um, my building is on fire" and I laughed. But I guess he wasn't really kidding: the fire alarm went off so everyone was outside and he decided to go for a walk and call me. He said he didn't see anything or smell smoke, so here's hoping that everything's copacetic with his building. I said possibly carpenter ants could be responsible. Or maybe it was a membrane problem.
Really. Gonna get my nails done. They'll look fantastic.

Membranes

This is not what you want to read in the minutes: "Similarly with the membrane on both the north and south sides of the building, once the areas were opened, it was determined that there was either no membrane in the areas being looked at or the membrane was in poor condition". I'm not sure what membranes are (if only I knew an architectural technologist, or say a P. Eng - surely they could help!) but I bet they're necessary and important. Why do I think this? Because membrane sounds a bit like 'my brain', and I need my brain.
This is how to buy a condo.
Not.
I think finding a rich doctor with a house in West Van is still the more viable and less stressful option.

Also?

It just started raining. And I burnt my tongue on my oatmeal.

I want to go back to bed

I did not sleep well last night. I feel like I'm getting sick. The deal expires in 2.5 hours (I'll be running around some random location in Vancouver at that point). I want to go back to bed. I'm worried about the soundness of the balconies on the building. I want to be there when the people upstairs are there: are they noisy? What is the likelihood that the strata will approve new windows and doors soon, because right now they are single paned and double paned will make things nice and quiet. I didn't get a chance to shave my legs yesterday so I hope no one tries to touch them... when I'm running.
I like that I left myself a note for this morning. It says "Car on Vine". Because I got parking right in front of my building (which never, ever happens) so I didn't have to park one block over. Whatever returns (time wise) I gain from parking on Vine are always mitigated by the fact that, bleary eyed, I still walk over to Balsam, have a panic attack because I think my car is "missing" before realizing it's on Vine Street, so I then walk back to Vine and am pissed because I am now running late. Basically I should just never park on Vine.

Wow

Yeah. Why is it that every time I go out with my realtor I get home really late? We tried to look at five places in Kits today: two had been sold the night before. I hate dealing in a hot market. So here's the corny bit: last night I dreamed that I bought a condo. The last condo that we looked at today was one that I'd had my eye on for about a week and it was, surprisingly, still on the market. I made an offer. They countered. I went to Kinko's on Broadway in my pajamas to agree to the counter offer. It's open until 10am tomorrow. If they accept I have until Friday to remove the subjects and then completion is October 4th. Holy shit. Needless to say I'm a little wound up and I'm likely not going to sleep too well tonight which is doubly irritating given that I have to run 34 goddamn kilometres at 8:30 tomorrow. Yeah, you wanna talk about burning the candle at both ends? I need a vacation from condo shopping. So we'll see. I like the joint. It's on Cornwall, across from the beach which, you know, is just a mild perk. I wrote the bed and night stands into the offer because apparently I'm some kind of furniture kleptomaniac, but them's the breaks. If you don't want me to put your fine things into my offer then don't stage your suite so well! They wouldn't let me take the patio furniture, the effers. Okay, enough real estate talk.
Last night was fun. I mean, I was the conspicuous fifth wheel, but I think that everyone still enjoyed my presence. I look forward to playing Robot Rally at some point (pew! pew!) and I indicated that I had a couple of pretty cool robots at work. I said that they were both boy robots, but the question was put forth that how did I really know that they were boy robots. I really didn't have an answer. How does one sex a robot? I do believe that they're men because they don't return phone calls, they burp and they constantly leave the toilet seat up.
As for the Cascade Lounge: I liked it. I liked the sign. A lot. Perhaps S didn't agree with me on this: he thought the sign might be more acceptable if made a buzzing sound, but I thought it was mod. I also liked the funky, patchy wallpaper. I liked our waitress too. Skyhammer said that his mojito was good but not great and she told him that it was great and she was quite convincing. Oh - Brandy Alexanders? My new favourite thing. All in all an enjoyable evening. I'm happy to see that my friends are all happy and it was good to see them out with their respective beaus.
Okay. Still totally wound up. May run around in circles for a while before bed. I would watch some ATHF except that I watched the remaining five episodes after smoking a big fat joint (and eating a McFlurry) last night. Yeah. I absolutely cannot watch television when I'm baked. I could not piece together what was happening at all, and you know, the plotlines weren't all that complicated: it's a 12 minute cartoon vignette. I was perplexed. And hungry. Slept well though. Maybe I will watch a couple of episodes.
Yeah. I am really scattered. So please bear with me. I was talking to Michael and telling him that, should all go smoothly, I would take possession on October 5th (a Friday) and he's like, "Um, you do know the marathon is on the Sunday?". I said, "Fuck me, I knew there was something on". So essentially I would get the keys at noon on Friday and then be gone for a frickin' week. He's like, "You could just skip the marathon". No, I cannot skip the marathon. My ridiculously priced condo can sit vacant, anticipating my arrival because there is no goddamn way that I will miss this event for which I have been in training since JUNE. It is GO TIME my friends.
Right. Going to bed. Freaking out a little. I can get a house in the Fraser Valley for what I'm paying for this condo. But it's sweet. It's on CORNWALL. We'll see.
Night.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

How to sex a robot

I don't have time to flesh out the blog yet, since I'm about to go look at a bunch of condos, but I wanted to put the title up there because the title is awesome. I will blog later. We will speak of animal cruelty, babies' bums, drinks that taste like Buckleys, the sign (which is frickin' awesome), and how imperious and regal I look. It's funny, most people say I look like a stuck up, frigid bitch, but imperious and regal sounds much better.

Later, sports fans.

duder

I do not want to eat my lunch

It's leftover spaghetti and I ate it for dinner the last two nights. I want a Tim Horton's veggie sandwich. And it will be so. And lo, it will be in my belly by 1pm today. Stupid is the individual that doth place himself between my person and said sandwich.
It has been brought to my attention that I (and others like me: you know who you are, you sodding bastards) have been thinking too much. I hate when I do that. It's so much easier to be a complacent, unquestioning automaton. Okay, I'm kidding: there is a happy medium. I'm there now. I'm sort of thinking, but not really. I have the inclination to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but I'm too tired to bother. I'm just going to go with the flow. See? See how I float effortlessly down this river of nihilism and apathy? I kid, I kid. I'm anything but apathetic, and I believe in everything and the possibility of even more.
This blog rocks. I can't wait to re-read it in a few weeks and think to myself, "wow, I was really sleep deprived that day".
I think I may quaff beer tonight, instead of wine. Maybe a Guinness - it's the beer that is also a meal. Then I am going to sleep until 11 on Saturday and then I'm meeting my realtor at 1:35. Why not 1:30? I do not know. The five minute differential perplexes me. It's so specific, what could the rationale be? See? There I go thinking again.
But what do I have to do before I meet my realtor? Come on! Guess! I have to run 6k! I wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe I should just run to our meeting. Two birds, one stone and I can sleep in until noon!
Beer. Beer me.

Drinkee, drinkee

Friday night should be fun: getting together with Po, N, Skyhammer, possibly Steve and maybe even Typewriter (gasp!). I'm starting to forget what he looks like. N was like, "What time should we meet?" and I said 7:30. Why 7:30 you ask? Because I have to get a six kilometre run in first. I really look forward to the day when I can get together with friends and family whenever the hell I want. I always have a six or ten kilometre run to squeeze in before I go anywhere. It'll be great starting mid-October when someone says, "Hey Duder, what time shall we commence the mass ingestion of alcohol?" and I can say, "Well, I get off at 4pm, so does 4:20 work for you?".
Today was a good day. Spent a lot of time pushing paper around my desk and emailed the majority of my friends at least once. Went shopping at Pac Centre (didn't buy anything though I really wanted to). Had coffee with a coworker and afterwards he took me to this magical place on the 2nd floor of our building. It was a jewellery store. It was where he picked out his wife's engagement ring and oh my god, I have never seen so much bling in my life. I saw a necklace for $37,000. I saw a lot of Tacori rings (www.tacori.com). You know, I try so hard to be good and not to be a consumer and to not covet material things, but these rings... so shiny and happy making! I don't even want to fathom what they fetch, but I do strongly feel that I am deserved of one. No. NO! Trinkets do not equal love. One of my favorite rings in my jewellery box is a glittery, gaudy plastic thing that my dad gave me when I was little. It means the world to me.
Then my boss attacked my plant with scissors. That was fun. Then I played with my robots for a while. That was also entertaining. Then I swept my little office and people asked me to sweep theirs and I explained what would happen once I got a jar of Vaseline and they bent over and repeated their request.
This was followed by crazy people on the bus, a warm welcome by the resident fruit flies that have made themselves quite comfortable in my apartment, a 10 kilometre run where I almost got hit by a Solara and now this. Isn't this fun? I love this time that we spend together. How was your day? Would you mind rubbing my feet? Oh! Not so hard, that's right, a little more gently. I'm going to have a glass of wine, would you like one? It's so nice to come home to you and be able to just flop on the couch and chill out. God, you're sexy. I bet there's more trouble involving rubbing that we could get into in the boudoir. What's that? You're tired? I'm pretty sure we can work through that. Why don't you go in and draw the blinds, turn on some music and relax for a minute. I will grab the Vaseline and the broom and I'll be right in.

Just a blog before bed

Wasn't exactly kacking to go to my speed training clinic tonight, but since I've been bailing so much lately (though doing it on my own) and it is coming down to crunch time, figured I'd show my face. I frickin' love my clinic. Had a five minute chat with Harvey, who reminds me of Larry David and always seems happy to see me (he must have cataracts). Ran with Julia who is working on her masters or PHD or something ridiculous at UBC and is like 23 or something. It felt good being able to clock 4:15 kilometres with someone who is younger and more athletic than me. Moreover? She's really nice and I like her. Another (really large) running group was also doing speed training at what is a rather popular 1 kilometre gravel loop down at Jericho and I think it was lap four when a bunch of them were resting and we were still grinding through and they started cheering for us. I love running. I love my running clinic. I like the running community and the positive nature of the whole thing. I didn't even care that our clinic leader was taking pictures of everyone to put on Facebook.
Thought I might get a chance to see Typewriter tonight, but apparently it wasn't to be. Talked to my dad who wants to travel this winter so I might get the opportunity to go to Thailand or Bali or Belize or possibly Vietnam. I'm obviously quite excited about that. Talked to my mom. She wants to go to Costco with me. Vietnam, Costco, it's all good. Talked to Michael who has been iceing his knee at work. One guy in my clinic may have to drop out due to injury so I really hope Michael can work through this and run the marathon with me. We debated the merits of ice versus frozen peas. Then we did the whole peas/peace thing. Who's on first? I guess you had to be there.
Peas be upon you.

Count the cliches!

Sometimes things happen to me at the oddest times. It’s the whole “when god closes a door, he opens a window” kind of thing, except I don’t believe in god. So it’s more “when kismet closes a door, a window is opened”. Except it wasn’t a window, it was an elevator door. Let’s revise again: “when kismet closes a door, an elevator door is opened”, though the door wasn’t necessarily “opened” but rather held open for me.
I just had to laugh. The timing was impeccable. I was dejected, bewildered, and forlorn with a nice touch of hopelessness on top and this random occurrence of exuberance shook me out of it. We (I?) often can’t see the forest for the trees. Yes, this is possibly the most clichéd blog ever, but it’s true.
The other thing that was interesting about this whole interaction was the effort that was made. I often think and talk about striking up conversations with strangers, but rarely do I have the balls. I’m afraid of being thought of as weird or – the biggest fear of all – being rejected. I have high school to thank for that. I guess I am appreciative then of the effort that was exerted that helped me get out of my self-absorbed and useless reverie. And just like you can see the effects of road rage spread like a contagion through traffic as negative energy spins off and begets further negative energy, so did this unexpected bit of pleasantness brighten my otherwise emotionally roiling morning.

Do and contemplate everything that I say on this blog

Yep, me and Po having some pretty illuminating conversations these days. It's good. It's good to find someone to listen and to understand and to relay their freakishly similar experiences to you. Even if the best that we can come up with is supportive quips like, "So I don't know" and "I'm not sure what's going to happen". Cause we don't know and we're not sure what's going to happen. No, I'm not stoned.
A funny thing that we discussed is how my blog can "influence" (for lack of a less narcissistic word) people. I should have put a disclaimer on my very first blog: I do not mean to coerce, lead, cajole or influence anyone in any way. Unless it benefits me in some way. If something ever seems perplexing or unnecessarily biting: I was kidding. Unless I wasn't. In which case you should feel like the sodding jerk you are. I hope I've cleared that up.
In that vein I would like to not recommend that you consider or action any of these random thoughts.
Club soda and cranberry juice is where it's at. Call a family member you haven't spoken to in a while and tell them that you love them. I don't want to have cream of mushroom soup for dinner tonight, but I should really eat it up. Make eye contact and say hello to as many people as you can as you pass them by (but like, not on Robson cause you'll be there all night). What does dating mean? Bring me a veggie 6" sub. Do you think that there's a biological reason that men and women communicate so differently? Tell your beloved about that random thing that endears them to you, like the flash of eyeteeth when they smile. Where do you think you'll be when you're 80? Read a poem. "As loyal as a fruit fly you'll mutter to yourself, 'you talentless fuck, good fucking luck, good fucking luck'" - "One Night in Copenhagen, The Tragically Hip. Have a bath and a glass of wine while listening to some good music. Do you sometimes just really crave a hug? Listen to a CD that you had on heavy rotation ten years ago and think about how much you've changed since then. I really want to go to Fairhaven for a sunny fall weekend and kick leaves about the grass, and maybe buy some earrings. Eat buttered toast. Think about all the decades in which you could have been born, and all the countries and socio-economic situations into which you could have been born, and then think about the most pressing issue you have right now. Be happy and share it with others. I think you're a brilliant person and you make me a better person for simply knowing you. Love me.

They all look the same to me

I think I've seen close to fifteen condos since Friday. They're all blurring in to one another. They have very similar features in that they're all too small and overpriced. I did find a great one last night but there was a competing offer and I lost it. I had fun though, racing around with my realtor in her Jag with a nice leather interior. I don't like cars and I don't really believe in cars, but this was a nice car. And it went. I would like to drive it to Whistler. And the condo I bid on had a flat screen t.v. so I asked my realtor to write it in to the offer. That was fun. A Sony flat screen would've been nice. So would a two bedroom, two bathroom condo.
Ah well. On with the hunt. More driving around in a Jag. Life is rough.

Gimme, gimme

Okay yeah. I totally watched Britney Spears' performance on YouTube today. Yes, I feel dirty. Yes I know I shouldn't care. But my boss (of all people) practically forced me to watch it! I had to do it: my job was on the line. It was a weird performance, certainly. Though it does make me want to break out my sequined stripper outfit and walk in a dazed manner around my neighbourhood. I do that sometimes.
My realtor is showing me a unit downtown that's on the 18th or 19th floor tonight. Man! That's really high! The highest I've ever lived was on the 10th floor once. I mean, 18 floors up? I think I would feel really isolated and disconnected from... well, from everything, right? I'm sure the views will be amazing, but I think I might feel like bubble girl.
I kind of wish someone would accompany on my fun condo adventures. I never seem to know what to ask. I'm like, "oooh, these are pretty handles, do the handles come with it?". "Um, yeah, the handles on the cupboards come with the suite. Dumbass. Don't breed." Yeah. So anyways. Maybe you can come and visit me in my pie in the sky suite and admire my handles at some point in the future. Do you think the air will be thinner up there? Maybe I'll need a sherpa. So much to consider when buying a place; so many unanticipated costs.
Oh! I had two timbits today. I normally have one but I ordered two and the lady behind the counter said, "One timbit?" and now I'm wondering if she was trying to be polite. But I was firm. I said, "No, I'll have two today". I laid down the law.

What? I had a frickin' busy weekend!

I saw the expensive condo on Saturday. It was nice. And expensive. You may have to speak Korean to live there, but I can't quite be sure. Maybe if it's still lingering on the market I will make the offer, but the realtor wasn't exactly forthcoming with the relevant details. She probably thinks I don't have any money. I mean, I don't really have any money, but how can she really be sure? Oh, and I wore the previous day's clothes and maybe, just maybe, they might have smelled like pot. What!? I have to do all my bad deeds on Friday nights now! I paid the piper today man.
Saw a bunch more places on Saturday and they all had at least one thing "wrong" that I wasn't willing to compromise on. Damn me and my scruples and my expensive taste in all things aesthetically pleasing.
Saturday night I was reading a little, playing on the net a little and fending off fruit flies a little. Got an IM from M (the liberator of my Christmas robot) who said he was bored and did I want to go for coffee or a movie. Given that it was 8:30 and I had to run to DEEP COVE the next day I said that coffee would be great except... I didn't have a car. He lives in New West so I thought he'd pass, but he came out to get me. It was really great, he and I haven't hung out socially in years. He must've been really bored. Anyways, we ended up at a dessert place and I wasn't really that hungry but I ordered pecan pie (with ice cream - of course) and we talked about various things and then he gave me a lift home. It was really kind of random. And I do think that the pecan pie was an excellent choice because I had the best run today! Seriously, we ran from 4th and Alma to frickin' Deep Cove. 28.8 kilometres. It wasn't my longest run to date, but it was quite the ordeal because we had to arrange for transportation home. Michael came to get me and met some of the people in my running group (he ran a paltry 20 or 22km today).
Then we went to my favourite bookstore in the world on Lonsdale (Upstart Crow Books) and I made it out with only five books though I wanted significantly more. Indulge me. I bought two Margaret Atwood tomes: "Oryx and Crake", and "Dancing Girls". I love Margaret Atwood. Utterly. I bought "Watership Down" because it was featured in Donnie Darko which was a super kick ass movie and it's a world renowned book. Thomas Hardy's "Tess of the D'Urbervilles" because it was mentioned in another book that I read, possibly "Cakes and Ale" by W. Somerset Maugham. And I also bought Maugham's "The Razor's Edge". I am sooooo happy with my little pretties and can't wait to get through the Minette Walters thing I'm currently on and sink my teeth into my new found literary brilliances.
Then we had the best Chinese food ever. Michael was scared when I almost bit his hand off when he tried to remove my plate before I was done. I think I ate more than he did. Hey, you've been out with me: anyone see me polish off that steak at that BBQ? Yeah. Get in my belly.
And then! An unexpected and impromptu phone call from Typewriter. Granted he was somewhat surly (though I would be too if stuck in border traffic at 9:30 with no end in sight) but it was really great to hear from him after his Vegas trip and I was glad to hear he was able to reconnect with some of his family members. And it was funny when he said he was driving a Kia "Hunchback". So he's back in one piece, short some potentially dangerous hair and skin care products, and short some cash, but, you know, unmarried. So he definitely faired better than I did on my last Vegas trip.
I really need to stop in at my lawyer's and get those bloody papers signed...

Oh, for the sweet love of Jesus

Right-o. Po and N came over for a girls' night. It was good. I hadn't seen either of them for a very long time (or what seemed to me to be a very long time, anyways) and it was great. N and Skyhammer had a great time in the Okanagan, the bastards. Po and S had a great road trip over to the Island. And I, well I had a really good time with Po's cat.
It got down to brass tacks pretty quickly, what with us three beautiful, witty women and all. We dissected our respective relationships. N and Skyhammer seem to be doing brilliantly so, of course, she's leaving to go travel South America. That's what I do when I find someone that I love and cherish: I leave the effing country. Oh wait, I haven't found someone to love and cherish yet. But when I do? Oh, I'm totally going to Europe!
Po. Hmmm... Po and I are suspiciously alike. I understand where she is coming from with her relationship woes and I feel (deeply) for her. I think that - all "neuroses" aside - she is a brilliant, loving and committed person that wants to give herself to someone and that she expects nothing less in return. I hope she finds the happiness that she so sorely deserves because she is such an amazing person. She is funny, smart, articulate, thoughtful, artistic, talented, accomplished, hardworking and very devoted.
And me, you ask? Well, my paramour is currently in Las Vegas. I have received such illuminating texts from him as "Damn it's hot here" and "Stupid Vegas..." which have, of course, filled me with emotion and longing. So yeah. I am missed. I am most certainly in his thoughts. There's a whole, therapeutic stream of consciousness waiting to come out at this point, but I'll just settle for a gentle smile and a nod.
Hmmm... what would be the karmic thing to say? Peace be upon you. Sadly (or not?) this weighs less heavily on me than Po's state of mind when she left my place tonight.
I want my friends to be as loved and treasured as I love and treasure them. It hurts me to see them hurting.
Me? I don't hurt. I'm invincible.

I don't have to work today

A three day work week. It's good to be me. A realtor picked me up around 10:30 today and we looked at a couple of properties. One was in the Soma area and it was okay, but it had that irritating enclosed balcony/den feature that is popping up a lot and pisses me off for a couple of reasons. First, it detracts from flow of the suite making the transition between the bedroom and the "juliette balcony" choppy. Second, it cuts off the living room space and I honestly don't think I could've fit my furniture in to the space allotted for the living room - and I don't have abnormally large furniture! So that one was a no go, unfortunately.
Then we headed down to a place near the Science World. Wow. I would guess my realtor is my age, maybe a touch older. She is petite like me. I really like her, actually. She's quite green, so she hasn't mastered the shyster realtor talk yet. Anyways, we're walking around Main and Prior and I'm pretty sure we're going to get shot. We pass the Ivanhoe and I said, "Yeah, I've been there" and she looked at me and said, "Why?". I replied that it hadn't been my choice, I had been with some people that wanted to go, so we went in. I do believe that you could get a beer for a dollar (this was about ten years ago) there and a man tried to sell me a block of cheese that he had ripped off from Safeway. I politely declined and then indicated to the idiots that I was with that I would like to leave before I was stabbed with a screwdriver. So what I'm saying is that it was a rather unsavory area.
The suite itself was nice. It had a good, open layout with concrete floors and floor to ceiling windows. The selling realtor was there and this guy did have the shyster act down. The suite viewed onto a large open field and I asked who owned it and what was going to be developed there. He said Provident Health owned it and a hospital would be going in. He said that was a positive and would add to the diversity of the area or something equally stupid. Um, it adds to the noise and traffic congestion if that's what he meant by diversity. I asked him how often the garage had been broken into, which he didn't like. He said it had been broken into a few times, but nothing recently, and that he didn't know of any garage that hadn't been broken into. I did not tell him the story about how, when Michael and I were living in Kerrisdale, we received a phone call from the police at 5am one morning telling us that someone had called in to report that the trunk on one of our vehicles was open. We got up, thinking someone had pried it open to steal whatever they could. We got to the car and yes, the trunk was open. And yes, Michael's golf clubs were still there. We closed the trunk and went back to bed. Anyways, this suite was priced the same as the Soma one, so one of them was not like the other.
Now I am home and they are working on the exterior of my building! It's only been six years! I'm pretty excited that they're fixing up the place. I do like looking around Vancouver at new and heretofore undiscovered (to me, at least) areas but you know what I really like? Coming back to Kerrisdale. Kerrisdale rocks. I am seeing a condo here tomorrow morning, but I can't afford it. I'm going to offer 25k less than the asking price. I'm not sure the realtor will even entertain it, but I've got nothing to lose.
Failing that, I'm moving to like, Smithers or something.

Random recollections from almost a week ago

Duder: "I don't know how to describe it. It's kind of like that Barenaked Ladies song 'Call and Answer', you know the one? The line that goes 'You think I only think about you when we're both in the same room'?"

Big D nods his assent and then - snap! - says: "Right, and what does it say later on in the song?"

Duder, chastised, recites: "'But I'm warning you, don't ever do those crazy, messed up things that you do. If you ever do I promise you I'll be the first to crucify you'".

Duder then has a sip of her second glass of Sauvignon Blanc. She ponders how great she looks in her funky, black, sleeveless top with her new horn rimmed glasses. And idly wonders what exciting story Big D has to unveil to her since, after he returned from the washroom, he said, "Oh, remind me to tell you what happened when I was waiting for the washroom".

What, oh what could it be?

Oh, man

Can everyone please go out and buy Joni Mitchell's "Blue" already?

All I Want - Joni Mitchell
I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be
Oh I hate you some, I hate you some
I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me
I want to be strong I want to laugh along
I want to belong to the living
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some juke box dive
Do you want - do you want - do you want
To dance with me baby
Do you want to take a chance
On maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby
Well, come on

All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you too
All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you
I want to talk to you, I want to shampoo you
I want to renew you again and again
Applause, applause - life is our cause
When I think of your kisses
My mind see-saws
Do you see - do you see - do you see
How you hurt me baby
So I hurt you too
Then we both get so blue

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Looking for the key to set me free
Oh the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling
Its the unraveling
And it undoes all the joy that could be
I want to have fun, I want to shine like the sun
I want to be the one that you want to see
I want to knit you a sweater
Want to write you a love letter
I want to make you feel better
I want to make you feel free
Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm,
Want to make you feel free
I want to make you feel free

The only thing worse than hills is...

Speed training! Speed intervals! Fartleks! Oh my god! I have no car this week so couldn't make it tonight's clinic. I emailed the instructor and asked him what I needed to do. He said I need to run 1 kilometre intervals hard. Six times. He likes me for a sub-four hour marathon. Frick. You show a little speed once and luck out with a 1:46 half and they want you to be the next... whoever is a really fast marathoner right now. Whatever. But the cool bit? I did 0.94 kilometres in 3:57 minutes. Okay, so maybe number six was 4:13, but still, that's not too shabby given that I only allowed myself three or four minutes between each sprint to recover. Oh yeah, the guy washing his Civic on the 38th thinks I'm crazy. He's right.
And then? Totally awesome night. What did I do? Did I go for dinner? Drinks? A movie? No, I had leftovers from Monday night's dinner at my mom's (the cake is now all gone and I am saddened), cleaned my apartment from top to bottom, found a realtor that is interested in returning my calls, finished my Tami Hoag book (sprawled on the couch listening to Groove Salad of course). And partook of a divine wine: a 2005 Chilean Syrah (Casa Blanca Private Reserve). It. Is. So. Good. I had a sip and started making notes in my little wine book and wondered if "orgasmic" would be a good adjective. I think yes. Mmmm... luscious.
Hey, more weird randomness: I was just thinking about my plans for the weekend and I'm going to be seeing Big D and just as I thought that, I got an email from him. Freaky. I sent him an email and I said that. Freaky, I said. Then I emailed, "I'm sitting outside your apartment right now. What are you wearing? Don't lie to me because I can see you". He closed the blinds, the fucker.

Yep, still fat

Pushed through (what should have been) an easy 6k tempo run last night. Yeah. I'm sore. That's not good, son. I really need to not miss any runs in the next month. Today we're starting speed training with the clinic but, because I am sans car, I shan't attend. I did email my clinic instructor to see whether we were supposed to do our fartleks (yes, I'm thirty and I can't say that with a straight face) on a track or over a ten kilometre course. He hasn't responded. I'm probably on his shit list for fat kids or something. I haven't been in a really long time - but I have been doing the work on my own! I swear to god! Ask those cyclists that passed by my repeatedly when I was doing hill training on my lonesome. Ah. No one loves me.
In other news I have one remaining piece of cake from dinner at my mom's place on Monday night. Cake rocks. Eating cake and not running is way more fun than not eating cake and running.
I'm reading a good book but am having a bit of a hard time with it because it has at least one critically serious implausibility to it. As a semi-aspiring writer I am a bit miffed that Tami Hoag thinks that just because she says something is so we must believe it. When a major scene unfolds upon which the book is hinged and the first thing that comes to a rational person's mind is "they really ought to go to the police with that", and they don't go to the police because "the police wouldn't believe them". I mean, come on. I need a bit more. Because, you know, fleeing a crime scene won't make anyone suspicious. Although I suppose if she had used my logic the book would have been four chapters long. Oh! Mistaken identity! Case closed. It's just irritating that an otherwise good read is so precariously perched on such a flimsy plot. Oh, how's my book coming along you ask? Pot calling the kettle black? Yeah yeah. One day you'll all worship me. I mean, more so than you do already.
I think I shall step out and by some gum.
How random was that?

I'm fat

Yes. Where to begin. I did not run on Sunday. Gasp! And though at first I was really agitated by my sloth (is that correct, or does it seem like a large, slow moving animal was pissing me off?), I eventually forgave myself. If by “forgiving” I mean eating a lot. And I do mean that. What did I eat this weekend you ask? An incredible amount of Indian food Friday night, sushi Saturday night, lentil stew Sunday night, eggs and sausage and polenta Monday morning, Greek chicken and vegetables and potatoes AND cake AND ice cream AND cookies Monday night. I look forward to playing the role of a jolly Buddha or Santa this Hallowe’en. Rub my belly!
Let’s see. Hedonists like to do things that are enjoyable, such as eating. They also like to drink. I did some of that. Sometimes they partake of certain substances that enhance the enjoyment of music and the overall appreciation of the visualization thing that iTunes offers. So I did that too. Psychedelic. There’s something else that can be engaged in. Something, drugs and rock and roll. What is it, what is that thing that one can do that can be really enjoyable? Oh, it escapes my slovenly, alcohol, drug and carbohydrate addled brain. No wait! I remember! Sometimes two people who are really fond of each other wish to exhibit signs of affection and intimacy. Boy, this is awkward. So, to alleviate certain, um “urges” they might get together and, cough, hold hands and… watch Venture Brothers. Sweet.
Oh, and if that wasn’t orgasmic enough? My brother lent me the second season of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Sunday night? Yeah, I was doing it as hard as I could.
That’s a reference to the Mooninites from ATHF.
Or is it?
Get your mind out of the gutter.

Serendipity

Today I wasn't really supposed to have much on. Except for feeding and walking le chat, of course. But I called my nana and we made plans to go for lunch, afterwards I was going to take Michael out for a belated birthday dinner.
I was so exhausted after my dinner with Big D last night that I ended up in bed at about 10:30. I got up today around 9, played with Po's cat and then met my grandmother at the UBC golf course for lunch. I hadn't seen my nana for a really long time. Like, unacceptably long given that she lives ten minutes away and is a totally fantastic, beautiful woman. Anyways, we meet up and, as always, she looks amazing. Please, oh please let me age like my grandmother has aged. We had the best lunch. The food and bill came and went and still we sat, talking about our family and my plans and her plans and generally catching up. And then, as things were drawing to a close, she said that she had something she wanted to give me. It was a small present and a card, the card she told me I could open later. I opened the gift and it was a gold Birks bracelet that my grandfather had given to her on their wedding day on October 21, 1945. I started crying.
My grandfather died when I was in my early twenties. I have some regrets in my life, but one of my greatest regrets is that I didn't get to know my grandfather as well as I would have liked. Nor did I visit him in the hospital when he was dying. It's something that I have struggled with and I'm not sure I will able be able to forgive myself for, though I know my grandfather would forgive me. I do know that my grandfather was an amazing person. He was an accountant, like I am. I believe he was from Montreal. He did not drink, he was quiet and reserved and he loved my grandmother totally. He was one of the smartest, most eloquent and classy people I have met in my life. He was kind. When I was little he used to pick me up by my elbows. I have fond memories of staying with my grandparents at their apartment on 10th Avenue, and they would take me and my brother down to Jericho beach to play and swim all day and have fish and chips which would, inevitably get covered in gritty sand.
When Michael and I were together many people commented on his similarity to my grandfather. Another regret I have is that my grandfather had passed away before Michael came into my life and so was unable to meet him. Michael is quiet, dignified and almost never utters a harsh word towards anyone. He rarely drinks. He follows the stocks as studiously as my grandfather ever did. My grandmother and grandfather had an 11 year age difference between them: so do Michael and I. My grandmother was the more social and outgoing of the two of them, as I was with Michael. My grandfather preferred small parties at home to large social gatherings, as does Michael. Both of our anniversaries fell at the end of October.
I suppose I digress a little, but I do think that the number of parallels are incredible. At any rate, my grandmother wanted me to have this bracelet and to remember how much she loves me whenever I wear it. Hey, you would cry too. Then we talked about relationships. She remarried a few years ago to a fantastic man who is quite unlike my grandfather. He is far more outgoing and social. He and my grandmother do things that she never did with my grandfather: for example they went dancing this past New Year's. My grandmother, like me, had never really danced before and she loved it. She sat across the table from me, looking so happy and wonderful and told me about the birthday party she is planning for Ed's 90th birthday. She's in love with him and I am so happy to see that she has found someone. She told me that she feels fortunate to have had two such exceptionally wonderful relationships in her lifetime. She told me that she had been saving this bracelet to give to me when I got married. Yeah, we kind of had a chuckle at that one.
It was just such an odd series of events to have happen today, especially after my conversation with Big D last night. As I mentioned in my earlier blog I'm finally in headspace where I can offer myself totally to someone. And I don't want anything less than what I had before. I too have been blessed in that I had a wonderful six year relationship with Michael. I guess I'm doubly lucky in that he and I remain such good friends and we are still an integral part of each other's lives. For quite a while I thought that certainly I could date someone again, but that I would not be fortunate enough to experience another relationship of such magnitude and importance as what I had with Michael. Today, after spending a couple of hours with my grandmother I know I can find something as monumental again. It will be different, but different isn't bad. I don't know how else to articulate this because I'm tired and am not particularly good with words right now, but it was as though my dinner with Big D last night was a precursor to today's lunch. I was in a really good mood this morning. Now I'm in a great mood and I'm optimistic. I don't think I've ever experienced those two emotions at the same time. I think it's giving me a tummy ache.
Alright. So that was my sappy blog entry. My nana loves me and thinks I will find someone wonderful to spend my life with.
I'm inclined to agree.
And no, it's not Po's cat.