inspiration not perspiration

I've not been posting lately but if I had, the posts would have been about:

• How I've recently reduced the number of times I secretly break down and go sob in one of the bathroom stalls at work by increasing how often in a week I get my heartrate between 140-160 bpm for at least 30 minutes, sometimes 45. Dear elliptical machine, you are boring as hell but you are saving my life and giving me a nice firm can.
  
  
• My second astonishingly casual and realistic celebrity dream. This time it involved John Cusack stroking my hair lovingly, and the two of us discussing politics and how to make the world a better place. It was great. Come back to my subconscious any time, John! Thanks for the tenderness.
  
  
• That I thought the much-criticized ("in poor taste" "I can't believe it's real" "obnoxious" "shocking") and ridiculously well-publicized Memorial Day invitation Nicole Richie wrote to her friends was totally hilarious and delightful. (I don't follow her goings on and am not a fan or anything, I just thought it was really great!) Reading about the response made me think "Wow, the American media really can't handle even the most hamfisted irony! What the hell?!" (What did you think?)
  
  
• How drivers in my town have got to CALM THE FUCK DOWN and stop tailgating. I drive fast enough, really I do. You'll get there! I promise! And just about as fast as you would if you WEREN'T RIDING MY BUMPER with the humpy urgency of an unneutered, emotionally stunted beagle with dominance issues.* Asshole!
  
  
• My mom and dad and I watching the Canadian team in the Stanley Cup Playoffs get spanked by the Ducks AGAIN. And my pater declaring "Emery is really the star of this game." And my mater weighing in with "Hey, Ray Emery is very cute! He's single, I'm pretty sure! I want a grandson with his genes!" (then looking at me expectantly).
  
  
  
  
• This suggestion from a friend re my ongoing research into the question "What will I do with my life?"

The Dude says: you should rent a big bingo ball machine
Roo says: ok
The Dude says: and get 1000 pingpong balls
and get all your friends to write down ideas on what to do with your life
then have a big party
Roo says: ok
The Dude says: and play "what to do with my life Bingo"
best way to make hard decisions, bar none
you might end up running a western-themed gay bar in downtown Carleton Place, though
so it can be risky
Roo says: or I might end up painting my entire body red and running through the streets yelling "I'm BLEEEEEEEDING", then spend my remaining years institutionalized
The Dude says: yes, there is that upside
Roo says: and when I asserted I'd only done it due to "what to do with my life bingo", it would be further grounds for my continued forced medication and incarceration
The Dude says: forced medication isn't as bad as it sounds

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* You should really follow that beagle link.

new profile picture?

Poodie apparently had a competition with a friend to find the ugliest shoes in the land (Toronto). Looks like Poodie almost won!

Too bad there is no photo of Poodie in those hideous marked-down Cavalli sunglasses. That would have been a hoot.

two things

So I'm not entirely sure what this means, but I really love this blog, and it's in some sort of competition, and I'm an International Internet Auntie or some such to his kids (meaning basically I'll let the young 'uns wrassle me and I'll feed them homemade pancakes with maple syrup if we ever meet in person), so go read some of it, then vote for it here if you like. (It's in the category of Best Expatriate Blog).

Also, world, do you have anything more to reveal about POODIE!?!?! Sorry to ask so many favours but these are both pressing matters.

possibly inappropriate thing to say to a coworker

She: Hey! Those are cute thong sandals.

Me: Yeah? Thanks! But I have to still build up the toe crotch callus. It's pretty tender down there!

She: Uh.....

Me: Sorry.

great advances in science

The Dude has dligently continued his Poodie research. Please, if you know about poodie, please come forward and share your knowledge. I imagine The Dude would also happily accept funding to continue his work. Perhaps a grant? Or we could get the cryptozoologists on this one.

Roo, apparently Poodie is used by God to enforce his views on blogging (see attached).

Best regards,
The Dude

hitting the nail

I'm out for drinks with an old guy friend of mine. We've been laughing for hours, enjoying a warm night. It's Saturday night on College St, right in the mostly Italian and Portuguese neighbourhood. He notes that up on Bloor people are mostly hammered by 11 PM; down here it's more of a Mediterranean feel, and people are pacing themselves, drinking and chain smoking, but still basically under control. They plan to go all night.

Men strut, their eyes scanning the exposed flesh appreciatively; women who most likely took about four hours to do their makeup and put together their outfits look studiously disinterested.

We ogle the many painted women going by, marvel at how 1980's aerobic wear with stacked heels has become 2007 urban nightlife fashion, talk about our worst kisses and best dates. After multiple vodka sodas (the perfect drink! so refreshing, no hangover!) I finally have to use the facilities.

As I pee in a stall of the tiny, underlit, bronze-painted basement bathroom, there are two women standing by the sink. They are fixing their flawless, abundant makeup and talking loudly about their lovers, current and former. They ignore me in my jeans and v-neck t-shirt; other than my breasts, I lack what must be to them the more obvious female markings: 4-inch heels, eighteen shades of eye shadow artfully applied, hair held in a perfect product-encrusted helmet. (They look incredible, airbrushed, and I imagine that they take bubble baths and sip champagne all day.) They move aside to let me wash my hands, but continue speaking as though I wasn't there. Their conversation has engrossed them and the tone is sincere. This is serious analysis. "He was hot," one says. "Yeah," replies the other. "He was totally like a porn star, but loving, you know?"

poodie research

Imagine how happy I was today to discover this in my inbox this morning:

Roo, was delighted to see your post about Poodie, and am also wondering about his origin, whether more like him might be available from local pet stores or even eBay, what his dietary needs are, whether he is smaller or larger than a human baby, etc. In my search for more information, I discovered this photo, which indicates that he is indeed smaller than a baby.

Best regards,
The Dude

... and this:



(Presence of puppies in the photo also help to indicate scale.)

What else can we learn about this magical creature? The mysteries of the universe continue to unfold before mine eyes...

I heart "poodie"

My friend nicknamed The Dude (and yeah, you can bet that one is dripping with irony) found this fantastic image once by googling images for the word "poodie". Yes, "poodie". I don't know who made the hamonster or why it was named "poodie", and sadly I can't take credit for it.


I use it in IM as my display picture, which prompted this recent exchange:

mm: wowza, your bunny is looking pissed!

Roo: yes
it drank too much rage-flavoured vodka last night

mm: i love that shit, you should add a dash of vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon

Roo: does that make the rage a little more Christmassy?

I'm looking for a hilarious man who can be, like, really serious - when I say

Went to soccer after work today and after running about 10 meters on the field I felt my glass adductors shatter. I guess it's time to start warming up properly before running around like a jackass.

After the game, nobody was going for the usual beer, so I came home to chill out. And just now, before bed and flossing as I always do, I found this fantastic mock dating service video on youtube:



It's from Smack the Pony - I especially love Sally Phillips, (the one in the vid above). I think it's one of my new favourite clips of all time.

late bloomer

For the one and only blackbeltbarrister, Mr. Penikett looking impossibly virile sipping a... mimosa?


OK, I'll stop with the silly Battlestar Galactica thing now. For the record, I'm always waaaaaaay behind the hipsters and cool kids (and raging sci-fi geeks).

Exhibit A: I started blogging in 2005 WHEN EVERYONE KNOWS YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO START IN 1994, OR AT LEAST 1999.

Exhibit B: I didn't read Tiger Beat as a pre-teen. I remember in Grade 6, my friend Alanna showing me a picture of Scott Baio in said magazine (or was it the for-all-intents-and-purposes-interchangeable Teen Beat?) and gushing "isn't he cuuute?", and me thinking "uh, whuuuuttttt?" (I thought, at the time, that cocker spaniels with bows on their ears were cute. Some teenager in a t-shirt and jeans with his hands in his pockets with some stupid grin on his face was incomprehensible.)

keeping in mind I've only watched Season 1

Things I find dumb on Battlestar:

1) That over-sexed bleach-blonde Cylon - the one who walks around wanting to hump everything - never moves her lower jaw when she talks!

2) People get in fist fights and get their heads and necks seriously traumatised and they aren't even stiff or sore afterwards! Just bloody and bruised - good, easy stuff for the makeup crew! No one breaks any phalanges or sprains a wrist!*


I am reflecting on this in particular because I was rear-ended yesterday in a low-speed collision on my way home. I was sitting there, and got my sweet Honda ass plowed by the car behind, which plowed me into the back of the pickup truck ahead. The speed of the car that hit me was about 25 km/hr. Enough that the squeal of his tires on the pavement was heard in space, but not enough that any blood was drawn, or any bumpers fell off. So not a big deal.

I felt fine at the time, if a tiny bit shaken, and there was not much damage to the cars involved. Three hours later, I had a massive headache, stiff and sore shoulders. I know I'm no Kara Thrace, (though ALMOST, mofos!) but - my chiro told me that collisions like that are the rough equivalent to getting clocked in the head - just no resulting bruises.

So I'm stiff today, but Starbuck can get her ass whipped by a superhuman Cylon thing and then be sprinting up stairs and nimbly springing in and out of vehicles the next day.

What's that? Oh yes. IT'S NOT REAL.

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*Everything else on the show is perfect.

too lazy to come up with a relevant title for this post

From a recent email to a friend, because I'm also too lazy to type an entirely new post.

On why my friend should watch Battlestar Galactica:
EJO is fantastic, with his acid-destroyed (I mean acne-scar-pocked) face, and his gruffness, and his incredible manliness, and his fatherly glimmers of warmth and regret. It's pitch-perfect. Other than him and the second in command, it is chock full of babes - everyone is ridiculously good looking. The revised female Starbuck is my new hero. I don't even mind that she chomps cigars! I wasted an entire sunny weekend inside once because I just couldn't look away.


(From here. One question: who would post that picture in 2005 for god's sake, and not THIS ONE?)

On what I like to do in a big city:
If I'm there for a weekend, I usually buy some form of cheap new duds. I also like to just wander in and out of stores on [this one street] where urban hipsters teetering on the edge of bankruptcy sew wacky clothes (skirts with squirrels appliqued on them and such) and sell them in impossibly funky stores for the three months that they're try to keep their fabulous/ridiculous businesses afloat.

Also there's a wool store somewhere along there, where I just want to rub up against the multi-coloured skein-draped walls and feel everything between my greasy thumb and index finger. (Knitting is the latest fad, did you know? Next it will be traditional book-binding, or wheel-wrighting, or barrel-making, or something like that.)

Then I like to sit on a noisy patio in the sun with a book and try to read it even though I'm distracted constantly by other conversations, people passing by, and the whims of my very very very undisciplined mind.

Sometimes I go see my friend play fiddle. Maybe we should put that on the agenda. He plays like he made a deal with the devil, but actually, he just worked very fucking hard to get that good. It's quite a joy to see him play because he's not just technically great, he plays with passion. I'm not even kidding about that.

don't tangle with us; we know many dangerous prepositions

Roo: oh the way she is around men!
seriously
SUNSHINE AND CUPCAKES

Sis: that is so gross

Roo: with me? and other women? stone cold, straight faced bitch

Sis: i would get outta there ASAP!

Roo: oh her fake smile makes me BARF!

Sis: i want to punch her face out!

Roo: I want to punch her face off!
I want to punch her face up!

Sis: i want to punch her face down!
i want to punch her face around
i want to punch her face back and forth

Roo: I am hysterical at my desk right now

Sis: i chuckle too here alone at home

Sorry to start this like a bad stand-up routine...

But did you ever notice how when one half of a couple goes away, all the other couples they're friends with rush in with offers of "oh, you must come for dinner so you don't have to be alone!" and "we'll take care of you while he/she is away" and "let's be sure to do something so that you don't get bored"?

People, I live by myself (except very occasionally when my fab sometimes-roommate is in town) and EVERY DAY I have to figure out what to do. I'm telling you, it's NOT ROCKET SCIENCE.

Sometimes it's a trail run (or in the winter, often a ski). Sometimes it's a little Battlestar Galactica or hacking around on my banjo. Sometimes it's slowly roasting a book in my BBQ and frequently squirting it with lighter fluid, and turning it over slowly on the grill with tongs. (Thanks for that one, John E. White).



Today it's "going for a snort" after work (as my friend Ralf calls going for a beer, even though that sounds more like it's about nose candy).

Anyway, my point is that being alone is not some kind of disease. Why do people do this? And on the flipside, if this is how people really think it should work, why don't I have people fawning over me day after day saying "oh you poor thing, do you need someone to watch Battlestar with you and endure how you periodically pause the disc to rant nonsensically about the plot?" or "Roo, I know, let's make dinner together tonight so you don't have to be alone."

Just a sec, I'll be right back when I'm done sobbing.

So the aforementioned Ralf - oh, you have to know that he's extremely misanthropic - and I for a walk today at lunch to get out of the freaking office on a beautiful day. We talked about his current relationship and how it's going surprisingly well. He explained "because C is French and her English, the nuances, isn't that good, she kind of doesn't know that most of what I say is toxic. I think that's why she still likes me."

Thank god I have plans to see them and a few others tonight. What else could I possibly do with myself?

on track

Roo: I'm miserable, but sometimes I think that this job is as good as it gets

BBB: why?

Roo: because the boss is nice, pay is good

BBB: but you don't enjoy it

Roo: ha ha!
sometimes I do

BBB: and you feel despair about what you're doing with your life
and you feel bored and frustrated
and you feel unfulfilled
those are the messages i've been getting
you've been patiently living the life that others think is best for you ever since you left university
maybe you should just do what would make you happy right now ?

Roo: yes
well I did that once
hence my brief 5 year sojourn in BC to dye my hair red and help a family of raccoons start a microbrewery in your attic

ah, memories

BBB: are you going to see Wiseman play?

Roo: absolutely!

BBB: fun
are you going with anyone?

Roo: not sure
nobody but me seems to know who he is!!

BBB: wow, maybe we accidentally ended up in a rare pocket of Bob Wiseman fans when we were at UBC?

Roo: speaking of folks from UBC, I was trying to remember what graham's last name was
remember him?

BBB: Graham? no

Roo: Graham, who was dating that tiny little woman
and was partly gay
and dressed up as warhol
and was into japanese tea ceremony

BBB: oh yes, i remember him now