'Afternoon

I was going to say Happy Monday, but I don’t want to fool you into thinking I’m Mary fucking Sunshine. Because I am not. Particularly on a Monday. An especially wet and gloomy Monday. So let me conclude by saying, since we’re all in this Monday business together: Hi. How’s your hangover?

My weekend with nuts, in a shell (like an M&M!):

I got hit on, repeatedly, by Hodge’s colleague when we were all out on Friday. We both repeatedly told Ralph, aka the octopus hands man, that I had a significant someone or other and that I wasn’t going to reciprocate his advances. Ever. Not even if I was single. You wee little man.

Aside from handsy man and hunter man*, I enjoyed my Friday, even if my neuroses came out in force after a few drinks. It would appear that I am a clean freak (some might say Nazi) after I’ve had a few and the venue happens to be my apartment; It took alot of restraint to not plastic wrap my place. I’m also slightly concerned that Ted Bundy lives in my bedroom closet, that I have to say to myself before every flight that I get on that the plane is going to crash** and earthquakes are a very scary thought for me***. (I had some serious problems in my last high rise apartment: I lived on the bottom floor and thought every night I stayes there that an earthquake would topple the whole building onto me and they would never recover my body) So, in the end, some near strangers know far too much about my secret persona (Bridget-Jones-meets-Woody-Allen-with-OCD) that I had so skilfully tried to hide.

*Hunter man was excitedly explaining that he was going to go hunting and shoot everything he saw, like, everything. Perhaps I took him too literally while he was being ‘cool, man’ because I fail to see the cool side of frivolously shooting animals that aren’t going to be used in a purposeful manner. Note to Hunter man: Pull your badly haircutted head out of your ass before opening your mouth again, because it keeps filling up with diarrhoetic shit and is spewing from all of your orifices. Douche.
***And that concludes Monday’s soapbox session. You are excused.***

**I do sincerely think that before I get on flights, and I would say that I fly a fair bit. I resign myself to the fact that if the plane does go down, there is nothing that I can do about it, and if it’s my time to go, I’ll give your regards to the man downstairs. However, this has become a double edged sword when I have caught myself not saying it and then realised, mid flight, that I had doomed my unlucky co-planers because by not saying it, the plane was going to crash. It’s complicated.

***Ha! I live in earthquake alley, where I had earthquake drills in junior high school. Hide under a desk, in a door way, hold a text book over your head and neck for protection!

Saturday was a bit of a write off. It was full of sick people (genuinely ill, not gutterminds, unlike Sunday), driving, getting lost, wanting to get lost and Ikea. I know that there are tons of people that really enjoy getting their grooves on at Ikea. I’m not one of them. I no longer find shopping fun and enjoyable, and shop like a man-woman (wanting to get in and get out, but needing to find the ‘perfect’ lamp/pillow/pair of jeans, etc). All in all, it was a very long day.

Sunday was Funday! I met my fellow apartment dwellers, Hodge and Hug, for brekkie at Theresa’s on Denman, which to date is my favourite cheap and cheerful breakfast joint. There were other destinations in the day, culminating with finding rocks at the beach and red velvet cupcakes for dessert.

It was like spending the day with two brothers, but better (since these guys can carry on a conversation which doesn’t include grunting in reply to queries)! I really am fond of my neighbours and think that I must have done something right to deserve their company, even in the meanwhile. They also buy me red velvet and chocolate cupcakes, and I’m not usually one to let a good thing go!

I also have a short week ahead of me. My boss and I have elected to work on Wednesday (though I will be going to the Remembrance Day services) and have Friday off instead. Inspired idea, Boss!

This entry has taken far too long, and I’m afraid that I have lost interest now. It’s also (conveniently) time for me to go home and de-mould my fridge*.

-Anna

*Ha! Who am I kidding? Like that’s going to happen!

In Which My Snooze Button Gets a Workout

I have been editing this mother of a post for an hour and I can’t decide what is going on. Ack…posting crisis before midday? I have a finite amount of decision making abilities per day, as evidenced by yesterday, and I cannot figure out what I’ve used it up on this morning. Coffee order-same, number of snooze button hits-same (12, if you must know), route to work-same.

Challenge for today: Stop editing and being a general flip-flopper (or thong, if you will)* and do something productive (ha!) and constructive (ha!).

*I’m having a vision of a giant thong sitting at my desk, in the manner of bad SNL skit. I hope it’s in your head movie now, too.

Yesterday was mostly good with a pinch of bad.

The good:

I had lunch at The Greedy Pig on Cordova. It’s a stellar, slightly grimy pub that has ah-may-zing sandwiches. From me to you: order the grilled cheese and the soup of the day. That meal will never disappoint, ever. Word to the wise, though, drinks can be a bit pricey. BUT, if they have mojitos on special, eff the budget, they’re seriously worth the extra cash. So check these ladies out when you're in Van.

Last night I stayed in, which 72% of the time is one of my favoritest things to do. Hodge and I ordered pizza and coke and watched Ghostbusters on the air mattress that serves double duty as a guest bed and sofa.* Staying in was also good due to the disgusting amounts of Costco sized Toblerone that was consumed, and anything chocolate is a-ok in my world. I’d probably trade you a kidney for good chocolate.

*What, furniture for me? Pshaw, get away with your dirty mouth.

The bad:

I stayed at work late because our *big boss* is visiting and all of us are making the extra effort to look busy and indispensable. This required me to walk home in the dark which I find to be incredibly depressing and kind of tragic. Spending all your daylight hours in captivity is a major hazard of living in Canadialand, where we only get 4 hours of it a day. I’ll do it, but I’m not gonna like it. (oh hello, five year old self, I was wondering where you’d gone)

Oh the game of long distance lovers that has the power to crush your soul and spirit, or mine at least, attacked last night. I missed a call from KB. My phone was playing silly buggers and had dropped the network, and then wouldn’t make or receive any calls, mainly because it hates me and I had neglected it by leaving it in my coat pocket. By the time I got my phone working again, it was too late and KB was dreaming lovely things about me. Note to phone: Look, there’s only enough bad behaviour to go around, and I have the monopoly on it. If you continue to behave so gracelessly (which is my speciality) I will have to drown you. Both the phone and I know that this is an empty threat. We can’t live without each other, we're in love.

The Ugly:

Autumn has arrived in Vancouver and I’m a little (read: a lot) sad at the office while sitting in my wet pants. Rain water, not urine, of course. I only do that when I wear adult diapers. As always, when it’s raining and grey, I want to stay inside with cups of tea and crumpets, under my duvet with a good book. But it’s Wednesday, so I reluctantly woke up and with very little grace, swept the crusty bits out of my eyes and scowled at the world, while unclamping my teeth that I welded together mid sleep. I then dragged my grumpy ass to work.

This isn’t too ugly, this girl just likes symmetry so I tucked it in without you realising. I got you, I got you good, fucker!

-Anna