What I Did Over My Summer Holidays - A recap of the last neglected weeks

No.More.Industry.

The last few hours of being shackled to my desk was such an exercise in patience. Pure and utter misery, leading to boredom tears and sighs of frustration. Like any other day, really.

Unofficially, Fridays are half days. Officially, we’re on call, but conveniently out of mobile range. However, my boss’ boss is in town, (for one whole miserable, terrible, angsty month) so we have to do the whole 8 – 5 thing and work, or pretend to work to justify our paycheques. This includes staying until 4pm on a long weekend Friday. This is nothing short of torture.

Today, my timesheet, if I had to record a daily timesheet, would look like this:

25 minutes preparing coffees, teas and opening cans of drink

90 minutes eating verrrry sloooowly. No one bothers you when they think you’re eating lunch

30 minutes on ‘business related industriousness’

45 minutes talking to boss about weekend plans

30 minutes hiding out in the ladies, attempting to pull back from the brink of frustration based hysteria

This means that I spent a hell of a lot of minutes G

oogling shit. And that loses it’s charm after the 325^th minute.

A recap

To potentially make up for the entirely unreasonable length of time since posting (I have located the source of fault to be the laptop. I don’t like the Mac version of word. Word.) I would like to present the following offering:

I went camping for the first time in 2+ years a few w

eekends ago. Only one of the five of us that went is a regular camper and he’s a bit of a princess, so I made fun of him and his 48 cubic metres of camping accoutrement until 12.32am the first night. That was when the heavens opened and I fell deeply in love with his kitchen tent.

The rest of the weekend reads: rain, rain, no sleep, rain, walk on the beach of death, rain, rain, no sleep, gunfire at 3am, rain, pack up, wait dejectedly for the ferry, collapse into bed, discover slug in the car, weep.

Notable moments include: Hodge getting soap on his contact lenses in an improbable and unlikely fashion, discovering that he didn’t pack his glasses and ferociously rinsing said contact lenses until he could get at least one in. This resulted in zero depth perception, which led to a fractured finger. For Realz.

I suffered a second degree burn on my finger as a result of my own stupidity involving a cigarette and a card game. Too zealous? Perhaps.

After two weeks of healing!

Sleeping (rather – not sleeping but laying awake listening for gunshots – to scare the bears away, I shit you not) in a tent designed for infants and not two adults as the label says, with a man who smelled pretty badly. I don’t know what it is about men and camping and the utter refusal to bathe. Next time, if there is a next time, I am sleeping in the car.

Walking on the beach of death. The only living beings on it were ourselves, the dogs and the carrion eaters that threatened to fly off with the miniature dachshund. Not so miraculous, Miracle Beach.

I did a City Chase last weekend. We didn’t finish, but we came close. Next year, that bitch is ours!

We are not great route planners, but what we lacked in foresight, we totally made up with misdirection and enthusiam.

Luch, my beloved mental doppelganger, is 8’10” and has a rather long gait, if you can imagine. Those long legs required his teammate, Hodge, to trot a bit to keep up with him. Seeing Hodge running, Rob would start to jog and then they would be stirring up the dust and leaving Pumpkin and I, in a murderous rage, in their wake. I did manage to jog quite a bit of it, but the effort left me with several stitches and shin splints.

Aside from broken bodies and not finishing, we loved it and can’t wait to punish ourselves next year. We have vowed to finish this time. Also, beer has never tasted so good as after a full day of running and doing odd tasks in the sun.

In other news

My alley, usually home to urination and suspiciously-like-human excrement, was witness to slurpee vomits today. So was I, in an aural sense. Fortunately I didn’t see it, rather heard it (and assumed that it was water being poured out until I looked up and saw a young man doubled over holding his half empty cup). It was enough to make me queasy, but not enough to dry heave, so…WIN! It was a red slurpee, in case you were wondering, so somewhat-but-not-really like the excorcist. The young man then washes his mouth out with slurpee and, presumably, carried on with his day.

Since I can’t really leave you on red vomit stories, I am taking another cooking class at the Dirty Apron. It is cocktails and canapés, and I intend on getting really, really, unreasonably legless and stay in bed all day Sunday.

Chin-chin, Anna xo

A Brief Summary of my Week:

In short: Too short on time, too awkward and put me to bed.

In long:

1. I have been struggling with time management. Rather, not having enough time to do the things that I want to do with the people that I want to do it with.

2. I have been having very awkward exchanges with everyone, At first I thought it was them, but I have continued to have very stiff experiences with nearly everyone I encounter, so I can only dedeuce that it must be me.

3. I have realised today that I must urgently attend to my eyebrows since I am starting to resemble one Miss F. Kahlo.

4. Am being screened by a certain good friend of mine and I wonder what misdeeds he is up to, or if he simply doesn’t care to talk to me.

5. Have been actively avoiding doing any time of constructive activity in my personal time, including the bet that I made to myself just a couple of short weeks ago. I have been dazzled by all the internet has to offer, even though most of it I find boring

6. I missed my mother’s birthday, again, so that officially makes me the worst daughter ever. Again. It’s a hat that I’m getting used to. I managed to make up for it by offering something that I will have to cancel because:

7. I am most likely going to Peru in a weeks time, which I railed against at first, but the traveller in me has convinced me that this is more than ok. First South America trip should always be paid for by the someone else, obviously.

8. I saw a particularly high maintenance friend during the week, who is broke as fuck, so declined (ed. Note: didn’t even bother to mention the tab regardless of ordering and subsequent consumption of food and beverage on the tab, rather she simply ignored the bill – as if that works, trust me, I’ve tried) to help with the bill. So, naturally, I tried to tip our waitress 4 cents. Unintentionally.

9. I had a hilarious, though potentially damaging conversation with my cousin T when she called me from Seattle on Skype. I asked how her boyfriend’s new place was and if he and his room mate had managed to destroy it with their innate bachelor-ness (Ed. Note. I asked if it was clean, dear god). Directly after saying that, I realised that I was most likely on speaker (I was) and had to grovel. Kill me now.

10. I found out that a friend that I haven’t spoken to in ages is getting married tomorrow. This is significant because I thought that she would never get married, and after having broken her last boyfriends arm (really), boys had kind of steered clear of her. I am really happy for her and her Brazilian man-child who is a healthy 8 years younger than her, making him all of 21. But, he is Brazillian and facebook photos show that he is very healthy. Mazeltov!

11. I had a friend come to visit from the old town. He is, in fact, my oldest friend and I cherish him dearly for that, among other things, as our relationship has weathered many things including time and distance. But, his visit was so god damned brief, that I am annoyed with him. He and his friend drove 14 hours, stayed for 24 and then drove 22 hours back (nap time, thank fuck). I got to see him for a whole of 2 hours during his stay, because he was sleeping, at a concert or I was working. And, to finish my whine, there was no quality time, due to his friend – who has the most incredible eyes, and the most unfortunate face – being here, and I didn’t want to exclude her from conversation. Because I can only be so much of a jack ass, and I’d already spent it being all stilted and shit. I found out on their departure that they didn’t have to leave straight away (I though he was working and I was wrong) and could have stayed another night. In summary: short visits equals balls.

That’s it for now, dear internet. I wish you a happy and fulfilling weekend, filled with merriment and shenanigans because that is exactly what I am intending to do.

-Anna xo

That Will Teach Me To Control The Vigour!

Broken Bones

It would appear that I have broken my back. Not in the terrifying never-going-to-walk-again kind of way, but in a fuck-fuck-fuck this hurts kind of way. Admittedly the latter is not nearly as inconvenient as the former, but, man, it really hurts.

I am unable to give a play by play about the incident, just that I was fine when I picked my pants up, but by the time they were over my thighs (before they were buttoned), I had an intense, intolerable, excruciating pain running from the base of my neck to my shoulder blades. Did you pick that up? I broke my back when putting on my jeans this morning. Right.

This would suggest that I was wrestling with skinny jeans that require a mammoth effort to put on, or in the manner of Monster, who simply cannot be restrained and is Just! So! Excited! To! Wear! Denim! And that would be wrong. They were in fact the jeans that I wore last night, so they were even broken in for me for this morning.

So I haven’t been to the office today and have had, what would otherwise have been a very pleasant day: watching movies with Hodge*, and cuddling as much as back spasms will allow, having emotional conversations with the mothership (her emotions, not mine) and eating fudge and chips and last nights veggie shepherds pie (amazing, if I do say so myself). But just when I get comfortable, a lightning bolt runs through my spine and I count down the hours until I can take the next dose of Robaxacet.

Speaking of, that special time, the time for more drugs, is right now. Which certainly trumps blogging, so…see you!

-Anna

*What is the young man doing home? He got himself a bit of gastro sometime yesterday, so he’s having a legit sick day, too. We’re so in sync! Though he did ask me earlier today “How’s the period going?” So, that’s weird. Thought you might like to know.

In An Effort To Make An Effort

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Well, you know those rowing classes I mentioned last post? Well, we had a sort of ‘newbie’ regatta over the weekend and we totally killed it. I can’t begin to express how dumbfounded my entire team was, as we were utterly prepared to lose and lose big.

Because I have been getting a 'whaaaa' face from friends when I say rowing…. That would be the long, skinny boating kind, with the oars and the seven other people, each attached to an oar. And I have to say; I really, really like it. Like really like it! I have been meaning to row for a number of years but never got around to it because, well effectively, I was too scared. All I can say about the anxiety of trying something new….I wish I had done it sooner.

So, our team, rocking the shit out of the regatta.* As I said, we were prepared to suck, because our lessons had digressed into just two of eight of us into getting any sort of feedback from the coach, none of it good. Essentially, our boat resembled Bambi on ice, with oars going willy nilly, but at impressive speed, I must say, and the boat tipping perilously close to tipping us into the drink.

There was the promise of beer to lure us to the finishing line, and that, dear internet, is the greatest of motivators! We were all so stunned when we won the whole lot, that there was no cheering, no high fives and no acknowledgement of the winning until we had that celebratory drink in hand.

Where old meets new and vice versa

I had KB come to stay for a week a while ago. And, while it wasn’t a traumatic experience as such, it certainly wasn’t the most enjoyable time. I’m pretty confident when I say, too, that the previous statement applies to all parties.

I don’t want to write too much about the whole experience, aside from advising my future self that is NOT a good idea to have dinner with your new boyfriend, old boyfriend and his current girlfriend** under any circumstances.

My final on-line remarks about this: I am witnessing the end of a friendship, KB’s and mine and, needless to say, I am inexpressably sad about it. Even though my feelings romantically didn’t run as deep as he wanted, I did value him and what he contributed to my life. I am truly sorry that KB is no longer a part of it.

The Weather, as reported by Anna:

This weeks forecast is rain, with a chance of dry periods, though that is not to be expected. Make sure you don’t get sucked into bright mornings, and dress inappropriately, because on your way home from the office, you will encounter a rain of biblical proportions. So make sure you bring that umbrella, in fact, surgically attach it to your body (go go gadget umbrella!), and try not to drown in the enormous puddles.

Though it is tempting, don't bother doing hair or make up, or anything even vaguely reminiscent of Making An Effort, as all good works will be undone in approximately 14.6 seconds, courtesy of Zeus and his thunder stick.

That is all, Anna.

*not literally, that was the other boats….hahaha….bitches!

**of whom, I know far too much about…most notably from disparaging gossip from KB.

Here and Back Again

What is that I hear you* ask?

'Where the eff have I been??' Here and there and nowhere in particular.

Life is good at the moment, and when things are good, it would seem that I have nothing at all to say. So, to summarize, Good Life = Boring. And even I don't care to read about the ordinary days of myself, so I have refrained from posting.

Or, perhaps, I'm simply uninspired. I set this ridiculous goal for myself and even wrote it down, on actual paper with an actual pen, and though it's niggling in the back of my mind, I have managed to successfully ignore it. That goal being to write a little bit, every day, up to and including this here blog, which has been sorely neglected.

So, now that I've started wiping out the cobwebs of this journal/diary/log/whatever, I have to run. I've started rowing classes, you see, and I don't want to be late.

See you back here soon!

-A

*You, of course, being the extremely interested and slightly nosy internet

In Which I Contemplate, Extrapolate and Masturbate

Black Day in the Office

Henceforth to be referred to as the Den of Industriousness (Ha!). We’ve just had some new ‘improvements’ to our internet connection and technical stuff in the office that I frankly don’t understand. These ‘improvements’ to my gateway to the outside world has resulted in corporate blocking of sites such as Facebook (typical) and its ilk as well as blocking any photos that are remotely interesting.

In addition to this travesty, the connection has slowed to a sails pace. It’s almost faster for me to write letters longhand and post them now. Dealing with a slow connection, like back in the ol’ dial up days, is the equivalent of sitting in traffic. There is nowhere to go (because that whole regular paycheque thing is kinda boss), there is nothing to see (because the screen is stuck on white until it’s reached it’s intended destination), and nothing to do. Perhaps I’ll try working tomorrow.

For the Love of Orange

I don’t know exactly what it is about fruit, but I struggle to eat it. I am a champ at buying it, ace at letting it sit in the fridge for a week or two until the stench of rotting food causes me to do a full fridge purge which sends me into a tail spin of guilt for all those malnourished kids in the world who would have enjoyed that bag of apples I so callously waste on an alarmingly regular basis.

That being said, I awarded myself a gold star this afternoon when I chose the orange over the chocolate bar. Unprocessed food, for the win! And, I have to say, it was satisfying and incredibly delicious. When I have fruit that’s as tasty as it was today, I wonder at my reluctance to eat it. I have two more oranges and a bag of grapes that I will endeavour to eat before their respective use by dates.

What Is That?

Apparently, I got dressed in the dark this morning (on reflection, I think I did). And when I got to work in the morning, I noticed this:

I have no recollection of eating any blue food, nor did I use Windex this morning, so I can only surmise that it is Smurf spooge.

-Going to watch smurf porn, Anna

If You’ll Indulge Me

Urine? You’re Out!

I have a few complaints that I would like to lodge with my body today, most of which have been plaguing me for the better part of the week. The foremost of these being peeing.

I don’t drink ‘enough’ water*. ‘Enough’ being the required 8 cups as recommended by water experts the world over. There are a few reasons (none of them good) for my lack of water drinking, one of them being frequent bathroom visits that are just really, really inconvenient. I’ve found that the more water I drink, the more I have to pee. Makes sense, right? Volume in equals volume out. What doesn’t make sense to me is the intensity and immediacy of need to pass water (as my grandmother would say). Excess water pees (or EWP) are sneaky, sadistic pees that will demand attention the minute they make themselves known, and I’ll go from not needing the loo to going to burst in roughly 12 seconds.

What I am finding unsettling for the last couple of days is that my number of bathroom visits has increased by quite a few more trips per day. But get this…My fluid intake has not been increased. What the eff, bladder, what the eff? Perhaps I am sleep drinking, like I sometimes do with chocolate, drinking litres of water while I am comatose. Very interesting. I will have to investigate this phenomenon.**

Crickles and the Back Spasm

I think that will be my new band name, if I ever start a band. Mmm, maybe RockBand name would be more accurate as my musical (dis)ability should only be forced on those that love me and not the public at large. My back has been aching for the better part of the week. Mostly in between my shoulder blades and, well, it’s just uncomfortable.

I suspect it has something to do with ‘Iron Hands’ Hug giving me a back rub over the weekend, during which he attempted to crush my breasts into the floor. I think that he’s had more experience massaging men, than women, so I’ll forgive him this time. But, honestly, if I had implants, I think they would have burst their saline seams.

The crickles are another (probably) after effect of the massage treatment. That or osteoporosis, but being an eternal optimist (HA!), I choose the back rub, ‘cause having brittle bones sucks hairy balls. The crickles aren’t too bad, actually. They just surprise when, for instance, I sit down heavily and feel that pop in my spine, which isn’t un-satisfying as such.

Kitchen Wonders

A couple of years ago, when I was a stay at home girlfriend, I was really, really bored and thought that I would try my hand at making pasta because I was hearing everywhere that it was SO!EASY! Despite my limited kitchen supplies, one crisp day when I was energised by possibilities, I made pasta. Or rather, tried to. Making the dough was pretty easy, if messy, but I ran into problems with the rolling. What I lacked in rolling pins, I more than made up in wine bottles and figured that a clean skin should do the job just fine (Resourceful!)! Except that I was afraid of pressing too hard on the bottle, in case it should shatter and turn a pasta experiment into a pasta nightmare***. So I rolled, and rolled (and rolled) for about an hour until I estimated that it was thin enough, cut it into strips and boiled it. Verdict: Pasta FAIL! It was so thick and doughy and chewy and weird that I wasn’t really interested in ever attempting homemade pasta again.

Until Sunday. I bought a pasta roller a million years ago, before I went traipsing around the world, and it's been with the mothership for roughly 5 years until I moved to Vancouver and the minx packed it in my belongings. Since then, it’s been sitting in the back of my cupboard, ever neglected and unused.

It was a joint effort between Hodge and myself, and after one false start, we made fresh, homemade linguini (or whatever). You know what? It was SO! EASY! I can’t wait to make it again, it was so delicious and EASY!

In fact, I shall bid you adieu and try again.

-Anna

*Just doing my part to save the world again!

**I have just foolishly googled urination, and there are 36 - 148 causes for frequent urination, up to and including diabetes and cancer. Fun.

***Blood in lieu of tomato sauce. How macabre and dinner of terror like! PS. Don’t drink the red wine!