Sticky Beak
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The Skinny
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...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
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Elementary, My Dear Watson I�ve recently heard through the grapevine that some of my fickle fans feel the blog just isn't all that interesting now that I'm a happier person. I had a feeling you'd be bored without the standard jaded cynicism that you've become accustomed to reading here... Sorry for that, I'll get right on it. In the meantime, I sit here sifting through the rolodex that is my mind searching for something relatively interesting to share with you all. Hmmm. There are probably a million different 'episodes' from my life that would serve as entertainment to the vultures out there, but I�m a bit too tired to dig that deeply and share them with you right now. Too bad for you, you're just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my boring entries for now, I think. For all those of you out there who were taking bets on whether or not I'd actually follow through and do the cruise ship thing, I have an update. I hope that you were smart enough to bet against me, because I am nothing if not a flake; I never follow through on anything. If you were silly enough to bet on my behalf, thank you for your faith in me, but you should know better than that by now. As I'd suspected, their idea of 'soon' meant November. That's just too goddamned long for me to wait. I am flat broke and need to start working long before then; I can't play this Peter Pan game and keep putting off life forever. Of course, anyone who knows me can also see through this reasoning, and knows that a good part of my declining ship work in November has to do with Damo. Maybe that makes me a pathetic 'serial monogamist' but I really couldn't give less of a shit. I'm happy. The only thing that would make me happier is for everyone I know to back me and be just as happy for me. I know, I know. Sometimes I ask too much. At any rate, the end result is the same; no cruise ships for me. Deepest apologies to anyone living vicariously through me... but again, did you really think it would come to fruition??? Since deciding to decline on the shipwork, I've been in touch with my old boss, Wendy, and she apparently has a position for me back in Vancouver at one of her stores. Pretty pumped about getting back to Van, to be honest. I'm surprised - I thought I hated the place - but I guess that just proves how much of a role people play in our lives versus environment, hey? Can't wait to get back to 'my girls'. :) That will be sometime at the end of this month, once Mel returns from her work assignment. Speaking of which, I must be insane. Melanie�s going to Vancouver for 10 days and I've agreed to stay here and "watch" the kids. Yeah, watch them run circles around me, maybe. For the most part, the kids are a self-sufficient machine... they do their thing, they know what's going on better than I do, and they certainly don't need me telling them what to do or how to do it. I don't even need to worry about making lunches for school. The only real purpose I�m going to serve is babysitting Ethan, and this is what scares me. The lungs on this child are outstanding. Not only this, but he doesn't speak yet, either. How on earth am I meant to communicate with a little person who can't speak?? I don't know how to interpret what the crying means: Are you hungry? Did you crap yourself? Are you sad? Tired? What else is there? I don't know! I can't even figure out why I cry half the time. Bloody infants! LEARN HOW TO TALK ALREADY! What a lazy brat - he's 17 months, for godssake. Certainly no "Little Man Tate", that's for damn sure. In other news, the mystery of the rotting flesh scent in my bedroom has finally been solved. Apparently, one of the shells I brought back from Oz still had an organism living in it when I collected it off the beach... Well, not any more... Nearly tossed my cookies when I opened up that little box containing the shells... blech. I've soaked them in dish soap, boiled them, even sprayed them with Febreez but they still smell pretty nasty. Hmmm. At least now we can all sleep easy at night knowing it's not the entity. The first thing I did after I figured it out was call my mom to put her mind at ease... Shudder. |