Mitten N Kim

And that's the last she wrote....

2004-08-26T13:19:00.000-05:00

For the stragglers... I have officially moved.

I'll miss this site. This is where I started blogging, which has become an interestingly important part of my life, so it's sad to leave.

But I'm excited to get to write what I want to write, without having to feel censored.

Thanks to everyone who asked for the forwarding URL -- I've emailed everyone who I verified isn't someone who knows me in real life. If you didn't get it, leave another comment here and I'll make sure you do.

I'll check back for a little while to make sure I've caught everyone.

Thanks again. Mitten will enjoy being out of the spotlight -- he's getting tired of the attention.

Funny moment prior to the move

2004-08-24T13:30:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd pop onto my page to check out if anyone actually wanted to know where I was going. Much to my shock, I saw seventeen (17!) comments.

That's a MittenNKim record, and frankly, pretty darn flattering. Maybe you guys actually like me? Maybe I have a decent sized readership, people who check in every day to find out the latest happenings in my life... hanging on my every poetic, witty word?

Then I LOOKED at the comments.

It was 11 people, plus Zoot six times.

Tee hee.

Y'all still love me, but 17? That's a pretty heady number.

In any case, I am still going to let people know my new address -- just not yet. I've posted a few messages to it (if someone can find me there before I tell anyone? I'll send them a prize in the mail. Ask Zoot, I send good stuff.) but I'm still stretching my legs with my newfound "freedom".

Also? I'm a bit nervous. Being that it's all going to be so anonymous, I feel like I can tell some stories that I wouldn't have told before... stories that have actually never seen the light of day. That's much scariness.

And while I'm doing this largely for myself, I am scared that the things I'm going to write about will bore you all to tears and I'll lose the very few people I have reading me. Because in the end, would any of us do this if NOBODY was reading? Likely not, I'm thinking. We write because we want to be read (a thought that was actually just posted on A Little Pregnant, with which I wholeheartedly agree and have believed for a long time.)

But we all have to take a leap sometimes, and I suppose that's what this is all about.

A test of the emergency broadcast system...

2004-08-21T16:42:00.000-05:00

I need a new blog.

No, I don't mean that I need to re-design this one again (as Rob thought when I mentioned it the other day). I mean, I need a new place on the Internet.

I have been thinking about it for a while. This blog hasn't become what I had hoped it would be when I started. I also feel it's been compromised by the fact that a number of real-life people read it. Not only can I not say the things I really sometimes want to say, but I don't even really feel like I can write in the style that I want to write in. It's all inexplicably tied together.

My thoughts about ditching MNK were ramped up just now when I checked my site-meter to find that someone on a local ISP read my site late last night, having found it by typing, "Mitten and Kim" on Google. I'm pretty sure I know who it is.

To them? Get lost.

That is sort-of why I want this blog to go away. (Also? Rob has made me FULLY paranoid about being found-out at work. YOU WIN, OKAY?) Yes, if I move elsewhere, I may lose the few regular readers I have. Which is too bad, but a necessary evil. Others have done it and survived, why not me? And, anyway, I started this for myself so if I'm the only one who ever reads it again, that's fine -- as long as I feel like I'm accomplishing what I set out to do.

Until I set it up, I'm going to get rid of my archives. And when I do set it up? It is going to be completely anon. No mention of my job, my city, anyone's real name. I'd appreciate it, if any of you do come along and join me in the new venture, that you don't mention this blog or my name. I'm probably going to delete the entire thing and be done with it.

If you want to be notified, drop me an email. If I can confirm you're not of my real life? Then I'll give you the URL. And if you are of my real-life, and try to fake me out? I'll very easily figure it out, and kick your ass in person.

Don't think I'm kidding.

As an aside: I wonder what it's like to be Madonna. Odd lady.

Venture cautiously into Section G

2004-08-21T09:37:00.000-05:00

Opening the "Social Notices" section in the Saturday paper, his face jumped out immediately.

C.C. was married to N.B. in a beautiful evening ceremony on July 24, 2004...

I quite don't know how to categorize C. in my past, other than to call our relationship tumultuous. Conflicting passions, you might say.

I was young. 19. He was a few years older, completely sophisticated, and way more than I could handle. I was a dreamy kid, he was a very smart man. He was originally from here but working on his doctorate in Chicago, quite likely never to return for good.

The idea of him was magical and I was smitten from the first moment he paid me any attention. I was also smitten despite the fact there would be no future for us, a fact he clearly stated from the get-go. He wanted a fling when I wanted way, way, way more.

We had a whirlwind week, then he left and broke my heart. In reality, I suppose I broke my own heart, knowing very well what I was getting into.

The years passed and we ran into one-another at a few functions in the years when he returned home for Christmas. He always told me how he wished it could have been different, that we could have met at a different point in our lives. I always acted like a bratty teenager, having had my pride bruised when he did exactly what he said he would do, which was go back there without me. How dare he not love me for ever and ever! Ha!

The second last time we talked, I was down in Indiana recovering from the devastating breakup with the first person who ever said he would marry me. (There have been a couple.) I contacted C., thinking we might have a coffee like mature adults when I passed back through Chicago on my way home. I wanted to apologize for how ridiculous I had acted over the years. I wanted to show him that I had, indeed, become a mature adult.

But, he turned the tables and played the bratty teenager -- un-inviting me when I told him that, no, I didn't want to spend the night with him. I just wanted to get a coffee.

The last time we talked was at a wedding, a few months after the above situation. I was licking some new wounds as the First One Who Said He Would Marry Me had recently re-appeared and played some cruel games with my heart. As such, I took advantage of the open bar at the reception and got firmly and squarely liquored. I gave C. flack over the Chicago un-invite but the alcohol prevented me from having any resolve in being cold towards him. My face still flushes with embarassment at what I might have suggested to him when we danced. Probably good that I don't remember. (At least... I THINK I don't remember. But we don't need details, do we?) He said he would call but of course he did not.

That was the last time I saw him, until today.

Seeing his picture in the paper didn't make me feel bad about the romance that never really was. It just made me feel embarassed. I am simply the snotty, immature, drunken girl in this married man's very distant past.

Motorcycle exhaust and garbage.

2004-08-20T15:00:00.000-05:00

My seatmate at my former job just IM'd me from the Domincan. Which, according to him, is hot as hell and smells like motorcycle exhaust and garbage.

But he is flitting around with several Canadian hotties he's met down there, so the garbage smell is secondary to trying to get laid.

FSM: Do you want something from here? Crap, or stuff disguised not to be crap, but then when you examine it, it's crap?
FSM: Or, how about some crappy crap?
FSM: Your choice.
PS: Ooooh. Which of those things sounds best.
PS: Something pretty. Pretty crappy, obviously, but crappy disguised as pretty.
PS: Crappy disguised as pretty? Wait. That's all of my ex-boyfriends.
FSM: Couldn't have said it better myself.

Six degrees of Olympic separation

2004-08-20T10:26:00.000-05:00

Finally, Canada wins a second gold at the Olympics. Why are we such a pathetic nation? Really. Even the Aussies are out-medaling us. We have provinces in Canada that are physically bigger than Australia, yet we can't manage even a fraction of the medals they're getting.

Not only that, but our medals are pretty lame. Synchro diving and trampoline. Yes, we won a medal in trampoline. That's something to brag about. Boy, Canadians can sure bounce! We're taking the world by storm, now, people. Next, watch out for the snow-shoers. They'll blow your mind.

Anyawy. I do feel a little bit happy to hear about who won the trampoline medal (silver, by the way -- we're actually only second best at bouncing.) About a year ago, when I was still a journalist, I got the lucky break of covering the Cdn. Gymnatstics Nationals, which happened to include the trampoline events. I did a profile on the athletes on the road to the Olympics, and said medalist was the star of the show. Personality wise, a true dud. But one hell of a bouncer.

I remember in ancient Greece, gathering around in old Athens, to watch the trampoline...

In the news...

2004-08-19T16:07:00.000-05:00

This just in.

Transport truck found abandoned.
Fifty-thousand cases of beer, missing.
Driver? Also missing.

I think the comments regarding the whereabouts of the driver's drunken, passed-out ass are unnecessary at this point.

The actually funny part about this is that police are baffled about the twenty cases of beer that were left behind. Please! YOU try running away with fifty-thousand cans of beer, and see if you can carry twenty more cases.

Silly police.

Funny words

2004-08-19T13:07:00.000-05:00

I wasn't going to blog today -- I tried to put up a post last night about the fact that today was going to be a blog-free day, but Blogger wasn't being cooperative. The gist was: Thursday = No Blog Day = No reading, no writing. (No arithmetic either, but that's every day.) It was going to be an ALL WORK day, to make up for the considerable amount of slacking I've pulled off this week.

But, I actually made some great headway on an assignment this morning, so I figured I could afford a few minutes here while I eat my lunch.

(Note to self: Idea to bring indoor grill to work so as to have fresh pork chops and grilled red pepper for lunch instead of another grody sandwich? Pure genius.)

And what will I do with this brief amount of time I've allowed myself today? Say that Google is now listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Its symbol? "Goo."

Ha ha! Goo!

Any one-syllable word ending in "oo" (with the exception of the "p" word because I hate all words associated with bodily functions. Yes. ALL words.) cracks me up! Goo!

Take that seriously on the trading floor. Just try.

Another note. I just spell checked this document, and the Blogger spell checker recognizes none of the following words: Blog, Blogger, and Google. Oh, the irony.

Can someone please explain...?

2004-08-18T10:23:00.000-05:00

There are a number of things that I don't understand today. Two that stand out.

1) OLYMPIC RYTHMIC GYMNASTICS (aka: The Ribbon Dance)

Buzz was talking about this on his site, and I have to concur. What is with the ribbon dance? Why is this is still an event? 90 pound girls in bathing suits, leaping around a mat with a ribbon. *I* could do that. Honestly. I could. I will. Watch me.

They've introduced some new Olympic sports in recent years, including beach volleyball and synchro diving. Both require considerable athleticism. And while I'm opposed to the inclusion of any sports in the Olympics whose outcomes are based on scores given by JUDGES, I still think the synchro diving kicks ass because it looks so damn cool. Come on, how do they DO that?

But the ribbon dance? To quote Buzz, in his infinte wisdom, "I think that if you're a "ribbon athlete" you should have to also do the hula hoop and maybe a
few yo-yo tricks as well." Exactly. Because I've seen some yo-yo tricks that warrant a medal far more than that stupid ribbon.

2) MY WEIGHT.

Ok, so, I'm fitting into some of my skirts and tops again that had to be relegated to a huge duffel bag at the back of my closet, so as not to induce suicide attempts back in July. A number of the funky skirts fit again, and most of the tops. (Just a couple of tops/sweaters/shirts don't seem to be flattering me the way they used to... mainly because my chest has gone up at least a cup sizes lately. No, I'm not pregnant.) This is good news. The skirt I wore yesterday, I actually had tried it on last on July 7th in hopes of wearing it to Stacey's wedding rehearsal dinner, and I couldn't even get it up over my ass. Seriously. Could not pull it up. Yesterday? Up, on, done up mainly comfortably. A bit snug across the hips, but fabric is meant to give. Nice.

So, I got on the scale this morning to see exactly how much weight I've lost since the beginning of July. Expecting 3-5 lbs., somewhere in there. Step on the scale, and...

NOTHING. I haven't lost a pound. Seriously. I weigh EXACTLY the same as I did on July 7th. But my clothes fit now.

WTF?

The verdict is...

2004-08-17T08:55:00.000-05:00

The winner of the "Skinny Bum vs. Nice Skin" contest is Zoot, who reminded me that a skinny bum is indeed preferential to a clear face. Yes, that's right, I have chosen to risk pregnancy and acne, in order to allow my ass to continue shrinking.

After all, you can use concealer on the face and protection in the bedroom... but it takes a lot of work to make that ass skinny, so if being off the pill is indeed a factor in this slow-but-sure weight loss? Then I'm not too interested in stopping it.

Thanks to all who entered.

Good skin vs. skinny bum.

2004-08-16T16:01:00.000-05:00

I've had it. I'm sick of my face breaking out. I'm in my LATE-20's, for God's sake -- there are plenty of teenagers who, because they fit so well into low slung jeans, could use a good dose of this particular humiliation. If you have a perfect little ass, you should not also be allowed to have good skin.

As such, I'm very seriously considering going back on the pill. I can not take this any longer. Pimples, be gone. I have the power to assault you with hormones so powerful, you won't even know what hit you.

I didn't have acne before this and I am NOT about to start now.

(Note to self: remember to re-read this post when the usual side-effect-of-pill-weight-gain begins, so you remember why it was important.)

Wait. Maybe THIS is why I'm losing weight so easily lately. FUCK ME. What the hell do I do now? Nice skin vs. nice ass. Someone?

Improved?

2004-08-16T15:33:00.000-05:00

Feeling a bit better.

No work is being done in this cubicle. Have been writing same sentence over and over. Write. Erase. Re-write. Erase. Re-write same as first time. Follow with second sentence. Erase both. Re-read first page hoping for inspiration. Get none. Back to final sentence. Re-write again. And again and again and again.

Not condusive to productive day at work. Literally, have gotten NOTHING done today.

At least the hands have stopped shaking.

Panic attack.

2004-08-16T08:46:00.000-05:00

It's pretty coincidental that this happened now, considering I just wrote Amy a comment telling her that she's not alone in her current "similar" struggles. (Go on over and give her some love. She likes lots of hits, they may cheer her up.)

What on earth am I talking about? I had a panic attack last night. I'd categorize it as mild, as it didn't paralyze me, but it was all there. Pounding heart, shaking, shallow breathing, a complete lack of concentration, dry-mouth and inability to swallow, and a slight feeling of "crazy"... that being, a feeling that I'm losing my grip. It's been more than a year since I had one, so this is an unwelcome turn of events.

I'm not considering a return to the meds, as I have thus far been able to "handle" it. This morning, I have the usual lack-of-appetite (this is why I got down to a measley 113 lbs. when the anxiety was in full swing -- it's hard to get food down when your stomach is fully in knots) and I'm still pretty shaky. But I can, for the most part, think straight. And I haven't sunk into any sort of depression, which used to follow an attack most times. It's a really isolating thing, to feel like you're completely losing your mind while everyone else is walking around with a normally functioning brain. It hasn't gotten that far this time -- I just feel really frantic, like something bad is about to happen but obviously I don't know what. That's hard to deal with.

On the teeny-weeny bright side... see that picture of me on the right? That skirt I'm wearing? It fits again. It's snug, but I can get it over my ass AND I can do it up. (Unfortunately, doing it up was really hard because of that shaking thing I mentioned earlier.)

The shaking is also making it remarkably hard to type, so I'm going to close this now. I'll post again when I feel better.

Running sucks.

2004-08-15T14:46:00.000-05:00

First, I forgot to mention: boy-watching on the beach with two gay guys is the most fun a girl can have, probably outside of shopping for purses or getting a facial.

Anyway... I just ran again, for the second time. Exact same circuit as last time, except this time I think I took a longer break at the Starbucks mid-point. (Those nice baristas gave me a glass of water, lovely people.) The run? It did not feel good.

You see, everyone who runs will tell you that it's the greatest thing ever, that they're totally addicted to it, that their body reshaped itself and they couldn't be happier. Oh, and they can eat whatever they want. It's awesome and it feels SO GOOD. And, blah blah and BLAH.

Well, I'm here to tell everyone how it feels BEFORE a person gets to that point. You know, before it's the best thing that ever happened to them. I have asked many a runner how they started, how they got to where they are, and what it FELT like to get there. But, somehow they never seem to have had the same experiences as I am having. What are those?

IT HURTS. The first few minutes are okay, but then it gets a bit harder to breathe. The calves get tight and they start to burn a bit. So do the shins. Then the brain kicks in and starts to tell you why it would be a good idea to stop, turn around, walk home, and have some chocolate. Nobody tells you about this, or how they got past it. Just keep going, they say. F*ck you, I say back. How does a dead body keep going? Because that's what I'm going to be if I DO keep going.

They give you suggestions, like picturing the pair of jeans I hope to fit into... or the bikini I used to wear, and how good it felt to get those appreciative looks on the beach. The truth is? NONE of that makes the pain stop. I said to myself, "Think of all the fat I'm burning right now!" And then I answered myself with, "WHO THE FUCK CARES, THIS IS BULLSHIT AND I'M STOPPING RIGHT NOW BEFORE I DIE."

Do you know what I love most? They all tell you that you need to keep a pace that is challenging, but that allows you to sing a song or comfortably carry on a conversation. I don't know about the rest of YOU, but I carry on a VERY comfortable conversation while sitting on the patio at Starbucks sipping my iced latte. NOT while running. There is nothing comfortable about that.

Actually, ironically, when I got to Starbucks, I had to bend over and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath and allow the molten LAVA flowing through my calves cool off to a slight burn as opposed to the scalding, muscle melting feeling they had when I got there. As I stood, dying on my feet, a girl sitting on the patio said, "Are you okay!?" I said... or, should I say, squeaked out over the huffing and puffing, "Yeah, thanks for asking. I'm doing this so I can eat that carrot cake you're eating." She said, "It will get easier... just not for a long time!" And you know what? That's the first time anyone has EVER said that! Nobody I've ever talked to has been that honest about it. Thank you anonymous lady. Yes, it IS hard. And it's going to be hard for a long time.

I know I sound a bit angry here, but I don't know why exactly. I just ran -- 10 minutes, walk 1, run 3, 10 minute break at Starbucks while I bought my coffee beans then had my water, 10 more minutes running, 5 minutes walking for a total of 23 minutes running -- I should be happy and feeling accomplished. I got my ass out the door, after all. At least I didn't sit here on the computer, aimlessly surfing.

I want to keep doing this. See if it really ever will get easier. But I'm teling you, it hurts so much right now that nothing is really making me want to get back out there.

Will I ever be out of debt?

2004-08-15T12:38:00.000-05:00

As I sit here at my parents' house, basically counting the minutes until January so I can move the hell out of their house again (I've been here for less than two weeks, and already I'm getting irritable and cranky), I've come to the realization that I'm going to be in debt again as soon as I move out.

Is this a reality for every homeowner? As adults, are we continually in debt? I make a decent living, and I hope that Rob will find a job with a decent salary when he starts looking in December/January... but still, I just keep thinking of all the things we're going to need, and I start to wonder if the words "debt free" are just for people whose salaries are at least double mine?

I mean, I have everything a person needs to fill a very cool apartment... but I want nicer things for my house. Sure, my kitchen table is fine, but it's not GREAT. And my couch? It's a blue Ikea couch which would be GREAT for a basement but not acceptable for the living room I want to have. NEVER MIND the washer and dryer and perhaps a new fridge and stove, and all of those other highly important appliances.

Anyone? Homeowners, does anyone ever get out of debt?

The hangover...

2004-08-15T12:15:00.000-05:00

I was so. hung. over.

I don't drink to excess very often, but when it's one girl and six guys -- none of whom are your boyfriend? They're not letting you off easily. And they didn't. Holy hell, I didn't know a hangover could last for a full 24-hours.

That said, I think I earned a great deal of respect from the boys. That ought to serve me well later on. At least I hope so, or it really wasn't worth it.

My precious wine.

2004-08-13T21:00:00.000-05:00

That bottle of wine I mentioned? I just found out that I should covet it, because the wine store that imports it here from Italy has 12 bottles left and that's IT. Not ordering any more.

Gak!

Morretoni Montefalco Rosso. It's red. It's delicious. I have never enjoyed any other red wine the way I enjoy this stuff. I actually stumbled upon it at that store when they first brought it in. On Fridays, if you play your cards right, I think you can get right-liquored-up there because the have half-a-dozen bottles open for testing and they'll keep pouring new glasses for you until you tell them to stop. Anyway. The Montefalco was one of those tester bottles on that fateful night.

And now they're taking it away from me?

Oh! Phone is ringing as we speak! This is live blogging, people! Live!

It's Mike, and what did he just say? "I'm never a no-show. Always late, but never a no-show!" Why is he late? He's waiting on the OTHER gay guy coming out to the beach. EXACTLY. Did I not just say this? I did just say this.

Back to the wine, however: they're taking it away from me. This? Is simply no good. But, I have no time to whine about it -- I've gotta go throw my clothes into a bag and scram.

I should have some VERY interesting stories tomorrow.

I'm about to make a sweeping generalization...

2004-08-13T20:54:00.000-05:00

It's 8:52pm. I am waiting for my gay friend Mike to call, as he's picking me up to drive out to the beach, where we're meeting a bunch of friends to hang for the night. Rob's writing a huge, very important paper as part of his Masters studies, so he's indisposed until Sunday night. I figured, what the hell, I should go get stupid with my friends to take my mind off the fact that I haven't seen Rob for more than a total of three hours since I returned from Vancouver.

What's the sweeping generalization?

You can NOT count on gay guys to be on time. EVER. Ok? I'm sorry, but I have a number of gay male friends (no lesbians, that I know of anyway) and they are consistently unreliable! Never on time, never calling when they say they will, forever making other plans. Mike was supposed to call me around 7:30, and pick me up at 8pm. Well, I still haven't heard from him.

If you're gay and reliable, I apologize. But this is frustrating, people. Especially since I'm already cranky.

I'm [ this ] close to not going and, instead, opening the bottle of wine got for myself and getting trashed by myself with only Mitten to witness my antics.

Grr. He's gonna get a bitch-slap if he ever gets here.

The poem you might have missed if you didn't read my comments...

2004-08-13T09:16:00.000-05:00

Rob wrote this yesterday in response to one of my posts, about the fear of being left by my love... and you know what? It was too good not to post. He's a creative little cutie.

Ode To Kim, by Rob:

Kim is sweet and fair,
Kim is mine, from toe to hair,
I love her dearly,
And can see quite clearly,
We'll be together
for ever and ever.
If only she could,
Have more trust then she would,
Be happier still,
Than sure currently will
Worrying about us,
Will surely drive her nuts
But I'll love her even from,
below her window in the asylum,
And give her roses and treats,
And lay my love at her feet
Till her sanity returns,
and her heart again yearns,
to sit there at work,
and blog about the jerk,
who caused her to go insane,
and I know I'll take the blame,
but for me that's ok,
I always love her anyway.

Awwwwww. I'm so lucky! Girls, you gotta find yourself one of these. You know, Rob DOES have a younger brother...

You thought YOU were worried about your fattening lunch?

2004-08-12T13:54:00.000-05:00

We all feel fat sometimes. And lazy. One often leads to the other and visa versa. But Rob just forwarded me an article that gives new meaning to the phrase, "My ass has been welded to the couch for days..." and, "I feel as big as a couch."

A 600 pound woman in Florida died the other day.

She had called 9-11 because she was having major problems breathing. But rescuers had NO idea how difficult it would be to save her. Why?

She had been sitting on her sofa for SO LONG, they couldn't get her off. Her skin had grafted itself to the fabric of the couch.

While that's probably the worst of it, the whole situation is unbelievably tragic and sad. First off, the rescuers had to wear special, protective gear because the stench was so unbearable. (Yes, people, think of all the things you need to get off the couch to do. Shower. Pee. Empty your bowels. Etc.)

She was so big, they had to cut a hole in the back of the house to get her out. A bunch of pieces of plywood served as the stretcher -- for obvious reasons. They had to get a tractor-trailer to haul her away because she couldn't fit into an ambulance.

The article continued, "Using planks, they loaded the woman on to the trailer, still attached to the couch. Removing her would be too painful, since her body was grafted to the fabric. After years of staying put, her skin has literally become one with the sofa and it must be surgically removed."

Oh my God. How on earth does this happen to a person? Yes, I have felt bad when I've realized I've gained weight and that is depressing to some extent. But to SUCH an extent that you give up on life?

Anyway, this story doesn't really end because detectives are now questioning family members to find out how it got so bad.

No f*cking kidding.

Though, even I admit I'm boring lately...

2004-08-12T12:12:00.000-05:00

I'm so bored, I'm boring myself.

I'm unmotivated, I'm uninterested, and generally "un"everything.

There are many reasons for this. Work. Living at home. Many questions about the somewhat immediate future... another apartment or a house? Marriage, sooner or later? Return to school or not? Some I have control over, others not. It's the "not" that is making me uptight and disturbed.

This, I can control: Should I have fries with my lunch? Yes. Yes, I should. Ha.

Things, I guess.

2004-08-12T12:06:00.000-05:00

First, let me say this about the previous post: 7 comments? That's all the conversation I generated? This makes me sad. I am clearly just not nearly interesting enough to actually make people want to comment. Obviously I need to write more about my sex life and stuff, so more people will be interested enough to come back... and comment.

Whatever, who knows.

I would like to clarify about that last post, if it wasn't already clear: I have been cheated ON, but have never cheated. So it's not like I think it couldn't happen to me. In fact, it's the opposite. I'm terrified it will. Not that I think Rob would do it, but what if I'm not being the kind of partner that is "enough", and so he's actually left WANTING someone else? How do I know if I'm not being enough?

SO many questions on that particular topic. I would just like someone, sometime, to answer the "why". Why cheat? If it's because you don't believe in monogamy, why get involved in the first place? If it's just that you're bored, why not break it OFF with the partner so as not to make them live in an illusion that they've got a faithful partner? And on and on and on and on. Etc. Too many questions.

Pam's right though: Flog them all.

Big question. About sex.

2004-08-11T10:01:00.000-05:00

Okay. I'm hoping to generate some debate here. I've been doing a lot of blog-surfing lately, for reasons that have been mentioned but won't be mentioned again (Rob, you may have infected me with your obscene paranoia about people finding my blog).

Anyway, through this surfing, I have come across two interesting sites -- interesting in the sense that they've left me fairly unsettled.

One site is that written by a man who fancies himself as somewhat of a professional cheater. He's married but has affairs on a weekly basis -- very steamy affairs, if the descriptions are a true indication.

The other site is written by a 30-year old girl who decided one day to be an escort to make ends meet. She doesn't go into gross detail like the Cheating Husband mentioned above, but she does describe who tries to hire her and who she ends up servicing -- mostly married men (80% are married or in a serious, committed relationship, she estimates).

So here's where I'd like the discussion to begin: do most people cheat on their spouse/partner, once if not more times during the lifespan of their relationship?

Maybe I'm more naive than I thought -- but I really had higher hopes for society than this. Don't get me wrong, I do actually know people who cheat and who have been cheated on so it's not like I think this only happens in movies or on TV. But all of those "cheaters" who I know personally, I probably could have told you ahead of time that they'd have the propensity for it. The guys I know are not guys I would have dated -- they're the kind who you just know, they're not going to be good, loyal men to their women. The skirt-chasers. That type. And the women are the same as that. Just not the classiest bunch in general.

However, I'm starting to get the impression that more people cheat than I previously thought, not just the ones who displayed behavior typical of someone who would do that sort of thing. It's really puzzling to me. I mean, yes, I understand that a lot of people believe that one person for the rest of your life simply isn't natural. But... is it that many people? Even the people who display loyalty and honesty and integrity in all other aspects of their lives?

Actually, I sort of understand cheating, when it's a spouse who has been devoted to their significant other for 20 years but he/she simply won't put out anymore, physically or emotionally. I say SORT of, because I would never advocate it... but I do know a couple of guys in this situation. Married a great girl who turned into a raging cow who is barely civil to him and refuses to have sex. Again: I don't advocate, but I can understand. Especially when he stays in the marriage for the sake of the kids or whatever.

It's the people who have otherwise happy, normal marriages/relationships, who pay for sex from an escort (the girl with the blog wrote about one guy who paid her for an incounter and when she inquired if she'd hear from him again, he said, "No, it's not right. I'm married.") or who have these whirlwind affairs like with the Cheating Husband... that I just don't get. I have the greatest guy in the world, but am *I* a candidate to be cheated on, even if I do everything I can to make our realtionship amazing? (Yes, that means in and out of bed.)

So what is it? A need for variety? The spouse can't/doesn't act "dirty" enough in bed so another outlet for that is needed? Is it the excitement? Is it the thrill of trying not to be caught? What is it? And do THAT many people do it?

Discuss.

Sigh. I need a host.

2004-08-10T09:16:00.000-05:00

Well, the new design WAS up. Then it went away because I've been using Ripway.com to host my pictures but they keep locking me out of my account. Too much useage, apparently, but really all it takes is about three people checking out my site for them to call "TOO MUCH!" and lock me out.

Can anyone host my background and banner for the next couple of days until Rob figures out how to host my pics to his new webspace?

(sigh)

Soooo frustrating, people. So frustrating.

But on the bright side: I ran yesterday! La la la la la.

Also? A big hand to Shiz for a successful first day on a new healthy eating plan!

I ran. HA.

2004-08-09T21:42:00.000-05:00

I did it. Yes. I ran. 15 minutes, five minute break, ran 12 minutes. Stopped by a train. Walked the last 3.

HA. HA. And, HAAAA. I did it!!

Victory.

Now to do it again.

Taaa daaa...

2004-08-09T19:36:00.000-05:00

The much bally-hoo'ed "new look" has arrived.

Yes, I know the Blogger ad is showing up behind my banner. Yes, I know not everything fits properly. Yes, yes, yes. I know. I see it too.

But you know what? This is it for now. Frontpage is all I know how to use, but the limitations are huge and this is as good as it gets with my very-limited knowledge. There are a few things that just don't want to be fixed and I can't fight with the technology any longer.

Like it? Hate it? Suggestions on how to change it? Please, throw them in comments or email me.

For RIGHT now, though, this is it.

Commenting Problems

2004-08-09T14:55:00.000-05:00

It seems there are commenting problems here on my blog. In that, they aren't working for some people.

Miss Zoot has brought this to my attention, so I'm turning on the Blogger comments in addition to my "Comment This" comments.

If anyone else has been having problems, you can let me know there.

Thanks all.

Gay? Yes? No?

2004-08-09T12:38:00.000-05:00

I went for lunch today with a guy from work. By all appearances, he's gay. But I could never be sure. I'd think I had it figured out, then he'd say something to throw me right off.

The guy is an impeccible dresser, always has perfect hair, talks with his hands, and walks... in "that" way. But you NEVER want to assume. I don't think there could be a worse way to offend a straight guy than to assume he's gay.

So, we were chatting at lunch and he was asking about Rob. I asked, as ambiguously as possible, if he was seeing "anyone". And he said no, that he just has the worst luck with dating, but that he's really ready for something serious. And I started to say, "I would love to set you up with..." Shit! My stylist... but he's a HE... and I shouldn't assume... DAMMIT. "...someone."

Gak!

He said, "Well, a friend of mine set me up... you know I'm gay, right?... well, she set me up with this guy..."

And I didn't hear the rest of it because I was so happy to finally know FOR SURE. Out of the horse's mouth. Because, while it really doesn't matter either way, it sort of does in order to not say accidentally say something totally offensive without even realizing it.

Or offering to set him up with my sister, which would clearly not go over very well.

Pretend Celeb. Boyfriend revisited

2004-08-06T09:24:00.000-05:00

Conversation.

Rob: I look like that guy right now... the tired looking guy from your list.
Me: Who?? John Cusack?
Rob: Yeah, that's it. Your list really has gotten better recently.
Me: What are you talking about?
Rob: Well, I mean, you used to have Aaron Brown from CNN on there.
Me: NO! I never would have slept with Aaron Brown!
Rob: This is a SLEEPING-WITH list??!
Me: Yeah...?
Rob: I'm starting to not be okay with this list!
Me: What did you THINK it was!?
Rob: Well, first-base at best. I'd let Vartan get to second-base, but that's it.
Me: Why him?
Rob: Because he does look cool. That's enough, Vartan! Hands over the clothes!
Me: What about Matt Damon!
Rob: Nope. Hands off, Damon.
Me: Huh.

Hotdammit, I have CABLE again

2004-08-05T12:34:00.000-05:00

So far, three days into the great "Offload Kim's Debt Through A Subtle Form Of Torture" Expriment of 2004, I will come out here and say that it's not so bad.

They're not bothering me. Sure, ALL of my belongings are either in storage or in boxes that literally line every wall of my bedroom (leaving me with about 10 square feet in which to move), and that's somewhat annoying. But overall, it's not too bad. In fact -- there are two very good things that I didn't know I missed until I had them again:

* Internet access at home

and

* CABLE

Why, yes. My folks' have a nice little computer and it is ON. LINE. I haven't had internet at home since I moved out of their house many years ago. I can blog AT NIGHT! And ON WEEKENDS!! GAH! The joy is CHOKING me.

But, really, it's the cable that makes me so happy. And not only do I have cable, I have cable IN MY BEDROOM. OH yes. Ohhh yes. For the last two nights, I have been fascinated by programming that you couldn't have paid me to watch when I still had cable in my apartment a few months ago. This includes all kinds of biographical accounts of the lives of celebrities (Carmen Electra and one of the Onasis women, just to name two that I was glued to) and MTV's "20 Most Tragic Music Deaths". It IS a shame that Kurt Cobain was "taken" from us so early in life.

As soon as I get my VCR hooked up, though, the fun begins. Then I can tape EVERYTHING. CSI. CSI: Miami. CSI: New York. Crossing Jordan. Law & Order: SVU (though, what with the recent departure of two of the best cast members due to a contract dispute, I'm not sure how dedicated I plan to be). What Not To Wear. Orange County Choppers. Starting Over. JOEY! The Bachelor/ette. Survivor.

AND, Jason Alexander has a new sitcom coming out. Must see.

Believe it. I love the schmaltz. I love the Reality-TV. I love it ALL.

Spam

2004-08-05T12:16:00.000-05:00

I think I just got had.

Seriously. I just got a message to my hotmail account, which is the email I use for all of my blogging needs (and MSN, obviously). The subject line read, "Link from Chris Larmier".

I opened it. People, I OPENED IT.

I fancy myself as pretty computer savvy. Nobody's fooling me with these, "The information you requested is in the attachment." messages.

But this one? I fell for.

What is WRONG with me. (sigh)

What I am and am not going to write about

2004-08-05T09:34:00.000-05:00

I'm not going to write about work for a little while, mainly because Rob does a paranoid freakout on my head every time that I do. And while I don't believe anyone of any importance has any reason or desire to see if I have a site somewhere in cyberspace... I also don't feel like spending 25 minutes defending a post like I did last night. (That particular post has been deleted, as it nearly caused something of a fight. Which would have been no good... because of the below:)

What I AM going to write about, though very quickly because I ACTUALLY have a deadline to meet today (and a hearty HURRAY for that), is the surprise birthday dinner I threw for Rob last night.

Raging success -- there were about 20 people there, and Rob was thoroughly surprised and touched that almost all of his best friends were in one room. And that was quite a feat. I had to go to some serious lengths to get some of their phone numbers. Sleuthing and stuff, because Rob doesn't write anything down so there's no central place to FIND his friends' phone numbers. I know most of their last names but not all. For instance, "Chico". I don't think that's really his first name, and I have no idea what his last name might be. Everyone simply calls him Chico and that's that. But I FOUND him. Ha.

(singing)I'm the best girlfriend ever... I'm the best girlfriend ever...

It was good. Very good. Now? I feel like I have nothing to look forward to, and I'm actually really happy about that.

I need a break.

Jumping on the Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend bandwagon

2004-08-04T13:05:00.000-05:00

(With apologies to Rob on his birthday.)

I think it started with Beth, asking for suggestions for a new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend, after John Malkovitch got the punt from her life. (I'm all for that breakup -- I don't understand how anyone finds him attractive. See Have You Seen Me? for the Tier Theory, for support on that statement. He is definitely in a low tier, personality/acting skills notwithstanding.)

Anyway. She asked for suggestions. Zoot is all over this Jason Bateman thing, which, sorry Zooty, TOTALLY makes no sense to me. You can have him, Alabama Girl. I'm not so much for him.

My list of Celebrity Men Who I Would Like To Date, is as follows: John Cusack, Johnny Depp (after Pirates? Who wouldn't?), Michael Vartan, the hot guy from Coyote Ugly (sure, he has a name... but why is that important when I'm dating him strictly for his looks? Oh yeah, and also, only in my head), and... finally... Jason Bourne himself, Matt Damon.

Here's the thing, which ties in both of the above links. Is it bizarre to think that I actually think I might be able to get at least one date with at least ONE of them? (Obvious obstacles of not ever being able to meet them aren't a factor here. This is all "in theory".) I'm too vanilla for Johnny Depp, and he's not ACTUALLY Captain Jack Sparrow in real life so... we cancel each other out. But the rest? I honestly think that, standing face to face with them, I could muster the courage to ask them out on a single date... and ONE might say yes. It would probably be a pity date, and he'd probably go to the bathroom during dinner and never come back. And then he'd probably trash my name in Entertainment Weekly as that stalker-chick who terrified me so much, I went out with her just to get rid of her. But that's still a date, right? And I could still go home and sit by the phone and doodle while I waited for the call...

Mrs. Kimberly Damon
Mrs. Kim Damon
Mr. & Mrs. Matt and Kim Damon
Mr. Matthew Damon and Mrs. Kimberly Damon
Kimber... no... Kim Dam....

Because he WOULD call again. And I'd totally have to hide that piece of paper, but maybe on the night before our wedding, I'd pull it out and sheepishly show it to him -- but he'd be so charmed, he'd fall in love with me all over again.

Oh yeah, I could definitely get a date with one of them. Celebrity men? LOVE crazies.

Drinking water instead.

2004-08-04T12:55:00.000-05:00

Water? Who am I kidding.

I got the diet Coke.

Diet Coke and bathrooms.

2004-08-04T12:36:00.000-05:00

No, not at the same time.

I'm craving a diet Coke. I've been having these weird diet Coke cravings a lot lately. It's not that it's weird to crave diet Coke, but it's wierd that I'm craving it so often. But I should have water. Because it's Rob's birthday and I'm sure there will be consumption of beer later to celebrate, and I need to hydrate now.

Anyway. Not the point of the post, despite the title that indicates otherwise. The point of this post is that I wanted to say, I need some new work friends. I think that some fun and cool work friends would make my time here infinitely better, while I hatch my plan to escape. (And I am hatching. Hatching.)

So, I just went to the bathroom and this very cool looking girl with a cool outfit and a cool haircut, made a funny quip while I was waiting for a stall, as she washed her hands. And I thought, "I bet SHE'S fun..." Then I thought, "So what do you say to someone in the BATHROOM...? Hey, wanna be friends with me, obviously one of those creepy-bathroom talkers? Let's go for lunch! " No. Not really a good idea.

And, so, she went away and I am still without a good bunch of work friends.

Nap. Please.

2004-08-04T09:53:00.000-05:00

I need a nap so badly. My eyes are burning. I have a great, big coffee sitting right in front of me but it's doing nothing for me. I am so bored at work, it's clearly killing me. See this, right here? This is death happening in front of your eyes.

In other news, a big "shout out" to those two fat guys who were talking to the motorcycle cop this morning, taking her attention away from the Speed Radar, thus saving me a $200 speeding ticket. I love you guys. You sweet, fat guys.

I understand inflation, but c'mon.

2004-08-03T14:46:00.000-05:00

$1.93 for a medium diet Coke at McDonalds.

Give me a break.

I am not "lovin'" that.

Day Two (and a request...)

2004-08-03T12:43:00.000-05:00

Actually, the real end of Day One...

Um, yeah, the nightclub attached to the hostel I was staying in? They really need to tell you about that when you book.

But, actually, that's probably all I can write about at this moment since I would like to have my pictures accompany the details. But, Kim, you just said your camera died. It did. But I have pictures. They're all on Shiz & Mr.Shiz's camera. Yes, those amazing people actually lent me their camera for the remainder of my trip, after mine died. Are these people for real? Oh yes, they are. Too great for words.

This is what you can expect to hear about, if you care to check back in a few days:

-A pre-wedding "BBQ" that will likely outdo my own wedding...
-A wedding of such opulence, I can hardly believe it was real...
-The Gay Pride parade in Vancouver...

In the meantime...

I have a question. Many of you reply to my comments on your blogs with an email response. What is the etiquette here? Do I reply to your reply? Do you care? Do I offend you if I tell you not to bother to write back to my one-line comments with one-line replies -- not because I don't appreciate them, but because I'm so easily distracted at work?

AND, everyone, how far back do you check your comments for new comments? A post? Two? The entire week's worth? Just what's on your main page?

Also. Do you go back to the comments that you've written to see if I've replied in the comment box? Should I be replying via email?

Thanks.

Settle in...

2004-08-03T11:47:00.000-05:00

Here I am -- back home, back at work, back at my parents' house. It was actually comical last night as I dumped my clothes in the washing machine, the ones that were in my basket from before I moved. My Mom started fretting about the fact that I had mixed my towels with my shirts and pants. "But... what... you have towels AND shirts in there..."

You know what, Mom? When you have to pay a buck twenty-five for a load of laundry, you sort things a bit differently. As you can see, my clothes have survived the mixed-laundry-load for quite a while now.

She was also fretting about the fact that I plan to buy my own groceries and was hoping for a space in the pantry to put my stuff. This is just too much for her to comprehend. Ya, Mom? I've been on my own for a long time, I don't do things the way you do anymore. (My Dad just sits back and laughs. As long as Mitten doesn't bother him, he doesn't care. Put my bread in the shoe-rack and my coffee mug in the garage -- whatever. It's cool.)

ANYWAY, I am home from Vancouver! And what an amazing trip it was.

I arrived on Friday. The airplane ride was long and cold, the flight attendants were bitchy, and the pilot kept coming over the intercom with ridiculous comments. I had a bunch of blog posts in my head but they all went away. Suffice to say, I made it safely... but I really did have an urge to go up to the cockpit to tell the pilot to keep to flying, and not to bother with the comedy. Really. Not funny.

I hopped on a shuttle-bus from the airport to Granville Street, which is where my hostel was located. The shuttle ride was harrowing -- the driver was a maniac who had no concept of "lanes" or "driving too close to the vehicles in the adjacent lanes". Other drivers were shouting out their windows at her. Truck drivers were giving her the finger and laying on their horns. We were in a scene out of Speed.

I checked into the hostel, which was a fine recommendation from Shiz, who came to pick me up a few minutes after my arrival so we could drive three hours south to Seattle to pick up her husband David at the airport. Looking back, I can understand Rob's question about why I was so comfortable agreeing on this road-trip before even meeting her... but Shiz was as-advertised -- very cool and fun, and intent on a stop at the Krispy Kreme just over the border. Come on people, give me a better road-trip partner. Just try.

That picture is for Zoot. It's the liquid donut. By the way? Not worth trying. We did it for y'all. Two big thumbs down.

Seattle was outstanding. Amazing city. Beautiful architecture.

Dinner was outstanding -- we ate at a little restaurant with delicious food, even more delicious wine, and a view that can't have been beat.

And finally, after my camera died... we went by the first ever Starbucks. I'm in love, people. In love.

A nice easy drive back to Vancouver (I fell asleep in the back seat -- for which I feel quite bad), and thus ended Day One.

Home, Boring Home.

2004-08-02T19:48:00.000-05:00

I have returned from a whirlwind four days. One of the best trips I have taken in a long time. Shiz and her husband David were generous beyond all human belief and showed me an amazing time.

I'd write about it, but I have to re-aquaint myself with Mitten and Rob.

Much, much more tomorrow...

Hello Vancouver!

2004-07-31T12:10:00.000-05:00

I was debating whether to post from Vancouver, but when a computer with internet access is staring me right in the face from the hall outside my room, how could I not? (I have 8 minutes left, though, so it's got to be quick.)

The trip has been awesome so far. The flight was uneventful (I slept), Shiz is indeed a very cool gal, and we had some kinda fun driving down to Seattle to pick up her husband. (With a Krispy Kreme stop -- Zoot, we took some pictures for you.) Also? I got to see the first Starbucks ever, which is cooler than cool.

Today? Much shopping, a BBQ even that precedes the wedding, and the big-ass fireworks on the water in Vancouver.

Loving my mini-vacation.

Last Post Before Vancouver!

2004-07-29T13:43:00.000-05:00

Well, everyone, it's Thursday for you but it's Friday for me. Tomorrow, as you all trudge to work, I will be on a plane to Vancouver where I will meet the beautiful, fun, wine-spilling-but-we-still-love-her Shiz and have three days of all-out madness and joy.

Will post from Van. if I can. If not, many updates and pictures of us having the BEST TIME EVER while we're checking out Lush and Starbucks in Seattle and other excellent stuff of similiar excellentness.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to see my friends get married while I'm there too. But that's just a distraction from the FUN! (Unless this schwanky black-tie wedding happens to rock it out, in which case, WHEE!)

Multi-psychotic

2004-07-29T12:59:00.000-05:00

It's lunch-time, friends, and since I've all but thrown my diet RIGHT out the car window (but not because I wanted to -- see What I've Learned From Moving), I decided to go get a sandwich from the little deli bar here at work.

You read me right. A sandwich. AKA: Turkey, cheese, lettuce, pickles, peppers and mustard between two BIG, FAT, UGLY CARBS. As I have lost 8lbs so far on the South Beach Diet (it was 9 -- but I think I gained one back somewhere along the line), and I abhor bread now. Bread products made me fat. No-more-bread-products has gotten me on the shuttle to the "Skinny Again" train. I don't want to get off the shuttle. I haven't even made it to the TRAIN yet. The train is still a light in the distance.

However, with nothing else to eat and my stomach starting to eat bits of itself, I got a sandwich.

It. Was. So. Good.

Which is odd because I hate sandwiches. Fancy that. It was some multi-grain bread of sorts, very fresh and moist and so cushy that I'm ordering a loaf to make a new matress for my bed. I will sleep on this bread. Grains and seeds in my hair, notwithstanding. (Would that be like getting sand in your bathing suit at the beach? Seeds in your underwear while you sleep? Maybe less annoying. And I guess you could lick the seeds off, if you would dare to lick your own underwear. Which I would not. I'm just SAYING, you wouldn't do that with sand, regardless.)

Anyway, I only ate 3/4 of the sandwich. It's this bizarre mental thing I do with myself. If I don't clean my plate, then I think that eating the bad stuff isn't QUITE so bad because I didn't eat ALL of the bad stuff. Just some.

The reason I did this today of all days, despite the fact that my body was screaming for more bites (except my hips and bum, which are quite full enough, thanks), because I have a feeling my diet is going on an all-out, world-tour of GARBAGE this weekend. One can not travel and eat well at the same time. It's carved in the stone with the original commandments.

Wish me luck that I don't come back 8lbs. heavier.

Shame on you, Linsey Lohan

2004-07-29T10:44:00.000-05:00

Okay. I need to talk about Lindey Lohan. I know this will be my second post about celebrities in a week. I apologize in advance. But the first post was totally necessary based on my crush on Michael Vartan (sorry Rob, but as soon as you become a cool CIA Operative with a code name and a secret past, you'll once again have a leg up on "Vaughan".)

That, and the fact that Ben Affleck is Bennifer again, and that's just lame.

Anyway, the newly-legal Linsey Lohan is appearing in Rolling Stone magazine looking rather sex-kitten-meets-hooker or however you might categorize it. I've seen her look far sexier than in this spread. And, yes, "spread" is referring to both the layout of the article, and the position of her legs in all of the pictures.

She insists she hasn't had a boob job. That's amazing becuase the SAME thing happened to Britney Spears! Seriously, the VERY SAME THING. Poor girl, that Britney, everyone accusing her of getting a boob job after she went from a small B-cup to happy, bouncing D's in just a few short, sweet days. All that pressure from the public must have driven her to get engaged to that grody backup dancer who impregnated another women shortly before proposing to her. Wouldn't you, if the public was making up such implasuable stories about you?

But back to Linsey. Not only did she deny having a breast-enhancement, she called the rumors of such, "retarded". Oooohh. I know celebrities aren't smart, as a rule, but child? I think YOU must be "retarded". Now she calls the stories, "stupid", because, "I guess I say 'retarded' a lot and this group (representing the mentally disabled) got mad at me."

Oh, but that's not all.

She says she feels insecure around all the pretty girls in LA. (Put on 30lbs. in 8 months, then you come talk to me about feeling insecure, lady. Until then? Shut your size "2" cakehole before I come to L.A. and shut it for you.)

She also says she's very close to her Dad, a man who has spent time in prision for stock-fraud and for beating up his brother-in-law. And a garbage man. (Because...? Whatever.) Lohan says, "At the same time, he's the best dad. He's the most loving, kind person you could ever meet."

I wish MY dad beat people up. All the loving, kind people do that. I guess my Dad doesn't love me.

Ms.Lohan, you are indeed a high class individual. Don't you let anyone tell you different.

Weather Pixie has left the building

2004-07-29T09:49:00.000-05:00

Where is Weather Pixie? Anyone?

What Moving Has Taught Me

2004-07-28T14:29:00.000-05:00

This is what I have learned from my moving experience (not my first, but definitely the most harrowing, as I have accumulated more stuff in the past year in my apartment than I had in my previous 26 years combined.)

1) Every time I go to the grocery store, my compulsion to stock-up kicks in. I must buy canned soup. All the time. So now? I have an entire cupboard full of cans that I must move. Cans. Cans. CANS. SO, what have I learned? STOP BUYING CANS OF FOOD THAT YOU DON'T NEED.

2) Throw shit out. Broken electronics don't magically start working again because they've sat in storage for six months. And, really, if it costs less than $200, it's likely that you'll be able to get a new one for less money than getting it fixed (VCR, portable stereo, alarm clock... etc.) If you don't throw it out at the time, you'll make 15 trips up and down three flights of stairs to get rid of it when you should be packing up ALL OF YOUR OTHER CRAP THAT YOU DIDN'T THROW OUT BEFORE.

3) Don't make plans to go out of town on the weekend that you're supposed to be out of your place. It is not smart.

4) When stuff in your apartment breaks, like the cheese drawer in the fridge, call the caretaker right away for them to come and fix it. Otherwise? When you move out and it's still broken? You'll get that deducted from your damage deposit.

5) Don't pack the stuff that you'll still need on your last day or two in your place. Or you will be hungry and end up eating crap for breakfast, thus ruining your diet.

I know I have learned more, but this post flat ran out of steam after #4. Or earlier, I'm not really sure.

What the?

2004-07-28T09:44:00.000-05:00

I was just about to start this post about how Rob and I watched Master and Commander last night after the packing was done for the night, and how I quite enjoyed it but how he was a bit bored. "The whole movie is on the boat. Them getting chased by the other boat," he said. Yes. I know. That's what made it good. He was less interested. I was having heart palpatations, though I think it was because of the stress of moving and the fact that my air conditioner was off all day and it was +48000 degrees in my place.

However, the phone rang just as I hit "Create New Post". It was my hair salon, confirming my appointment for hilights tomorrow before I go to this wedding. (I haven't had my hair colored in about four or five months -- I've gone no more than 8 weeks without getting my color done since I was 16. This has been harrowing.)

Her: "Hi there, Sets Salon and Spa calling to confirm your appointment with Gerald tomorrow?"

ME: "You betcha!"

WHAT? You betcha? Who am I, my Mom?

Geez.

Anyway, I was going to say that I don't understand why so many women are in love with Russell Crowe -- he's nice looking. Cute at best.

But I won't, because I'm now thinking about having to see the woman who called me from the salon when I go tomorrow, knowing I said, "You betcha!" to her.

I am such a tool.

NOBODY wants to see it??

2004-07-28T09:11:00.000-05:00

So, I put the offer out there to take a peek at my new design and there isn't one single comment! I mean, I know my readership isn't all that high... and many of the people who read, only comment once in a while. That's fine. But seriously, NOBODY wants to see what I'm working on? I thought it might have been of some interest to even just one person. Huh.

Well, whatever. I'm moving. Did I mention that before?

More boxes, including the contents of my fridge and freezer, went over to my parents' place last night. I got up this morning and thought, "I'll make myself some eggs, since I kept those for this very purpose -- a nice healthy breakfast." Except, I gave them the boxes with my frying pans and pots.

I'm not sure how I get around without being hit by a car sometimes, honestly.

I did have the forethought to keep my espresso beans in the freezer so I could throw together a Last-Morning-In-The-Apartment-Espresso... except it was for Rob, not me. (Yes, he stayed over to commemorate the last night in the apartment. What? Does that make me a bad person now?)

So I had to settle for McDonalds coffee because I had to take a different route to work this morning. One without a Starbucks. And that is some kind of crime. Plus? McDonalds shouldn't serve coffee because it is bad. Very very bad. V bad. Ick.

On the other hand, I did get a breakfast burrito combo. I ate part of one but stopped due to the guilt of eating such crap whilst trying to lose weight (my own fault, I really was going to make a healthy breakfast except for the stupidity of packing all of my cookware). Then I gave the other one to a squeegie kid who had a tiny little kitten with her on the side of the street. She was not in good shape, this girl. I felt quite bad for her.

She damn well better take care of that cat. (At least it was on a cute little leash.)

My trip.

2004-07-27T13:41:00.000-05:00

Hi, I'm back from that last post which probably makes me sound like a different person than I really am. I'm actually quite nice but I do have some "mean" hiding deep down, which springs into action when the chemicals in my brain get wonky. As mentioned, it's rare these days. You can be assured, I'm generally very pleasant and at least somewhat enjoyable to be around. (Unless I'm hungry. Then I am grumpy.)

Now. I am leaving for Vancouver in 2.5 days and I can. NOT. Wait. Can't wait!

I knew there would be some good shopping happening there. But. Until a few moments ago, it didn't occur to me that I could go to LUSH COSMETICS. !!!! According to the map that the lovely and wonderful Shiz provided for me, it's oh-so-very-close to where I'm staying. The joy this discovery brings me is something to behold. Lush. I love thee.

Also. Shiz and I are planning to drive down to Seattle to pick up her husband at the airport. But we'll have some time to spare between the time we arrive and the time he arrives. So? We may be able to find the First Starbucks Ever. AH HA! If they sell shirts, I have to buy one. Starbucks? I love thee even more than Lush.

I'm such a bitch sometimes.

2004-07-27T12:18:00.000-05:00

I'm going to admit something here. I know I come off as pretty vanilla on my blog but I actually have a nasty-streak that comes out with a vengance sometimes. I'm sort of a jerk. Never to my friends or people I care about -- the mood never strikes me with them. But it does with people I'm forced to deal with in various capacities. And strangers sometimes, but not as often.

Usually, it's at least partially warranted. Like when I played Ultimate against Rob's ex-girlfriend's best friend a few weeks ago. I was trying to figure out how I could bulldoze her on the field and make it look accidental. I was aiming for a black eye, but anything would have been fine.

Background: A year ago, when Rob and I were only about four months into our relationship and his ex was chasing him like a rabid dog (that comparison was not accidental), I happened to play against her best friend's team. The best-friend reported back to the ex that I was ugly and a bitch, and she could get Rob away from me with no problem. (This was after she confronted me on the field and asked me some cryptic questions, on a day when I was suffering from a bad cold and felt like crap. I wasn't friendly but I wasn't a bitch.) Yes, I'm 27 years old. We're all adults here. Doesn't this scream mature, adult behavior?

Anyway, see how a body-check in an otherwise non-contact sport was actually warranted? She would have deserved it if I'd been able to make it happen.

The thing is, sometimes I just feel pissy and take it out on people who don't really deserve it. It used to be way worse, before I got the anxiety and depression dealt with and put-away. Thank you Paxil. But every so often, I find myself being an utter jerk, I don't know what has gotten into me.

Just now, one of the women in my office walked past my desk then made an about face and asked me if I had a phone book nearby. I started to hand her my White Pages, but she said she needed an office-directory.

This woman has a very kind heart but she has no sense of people's personal space, and no sense of when to stop TALKING. All of us in this department have experienced having to simply walk away from her because she doesn't understand when conversations have ended. And when we're walking away? She's still talking. But she's a nice woman and I humor her when I have the time to do it. She harms nobody.

So... she asked for the office directory. I looked at my desk, and I KNEW it was under two other books, but I just shrugged and said, "I don't see it."

Why? Why did I do that? I could have easily lifted the books up and handed it to her.

What is wrong with me? (Shiz, do you still want to meet me?)

Elderly Drivers -- see, I TOLD you.

2004-07-27T12:03:00.000-05:00

Okay. I wrote about this a week ago. Proves my point.

An old woman was trying to park her car at a Smitty's restaurant, and drove right through the front of the building. Just this morning. She didn't "see" it, apparently.

Take HER licence, and that of everyone over 65 years old, pending a comprehensive re-test.

Yes, they CAN take a bus.

But honey, I HAVE to do it for work.

2004-07-27T11:03:00.000-05:00

I can come up with a lot of justification for wasting time at work, blogging and such.

But this? Takes not only the cake, but the whole bakery.

There are new rules for strippers who want to come to Canada to strip. Before these new rules, the women just needed to have an interview with Immigration and they were good to go.

Now? They have to submit a picture. A nude photo. Half-nude? Won't cut it. FULLY NUDE. Ha! Apparently they have to show proof that they can strip. Or something. I can't even come up with fake reasons for needing the pictures!

Some immigration officers are about to LOVE their jobs a whole lot more than they used to.

Interestingly... in doing a google search to make sure I had the facts correct, it would seem that there is a SHORTAGE of strippers in Canada. Anyone looking for work?

Addendum to Alias

2004-07-27T10:14:00.000-05:00

As I was searching for those pictures of Michael Vartan and Ben Affleck, I came to realize that some people? Freak me out.

There's a site I found that has screen captures from every episode of Alias. Literally, every few seconds of the show is captured. What could anyone need this for?

Who does this? And WHY?

The NEW Bennifer?

2004-07-27T09:38:00.000-05:00

I really enjoy Alias. Good show. And I really like Jennifer Garner. She's one of those extremely beautiful women who you don't hate for being beautiful, because she looks like a normal human being. She's got a killer body -- she's totally fit. Love her.

She WAS dating this guy:

Co-star and all around HOTTIE Michael Vartan. Yum yum.

But they reportedly have been broken up in recent weeks. Off, on, off, on. US Weekly and other magazines of that ilk couldn't seem to pinpoint whether they were together or not.

However, it seems that they are OFF... because Jennifer Garner is now reportedly seeing BEN AFFLECK.

He's Bennifer again!

But here's my question: who would give up Michael Vartan for Ben Affleck? Even Rob says Affleck is "nothing to sneeze at", but Vartan? Is WAY hotter. And he doesn't seem like such a pussy. (Sorry. Truth.) He's got that hot, brooding thing happening.

And Affleck has J'Lo skank on him, which is no good for anyone. Poor Jennifer. Apparently the Covenant stole both her character's brain and her actual brain.

Speaking of the airport...

2004-07-27T09:37:00.000-05:00

Anyone think I can sneak my knitting on board in my bag? I'm just using a small needle. It's not even very sharp.

Moving Update

2004-07-27T09:29:00.000-05:00

Kimberly coined the phrase in my comments yesterday, and I'm stealing it without (but hoping for) her permission.

Today is the Great "Martha Stewart Living" Purge of 2004.

Yes, I have a subscription to MSL. It's funny that it's such an embarassing thing to admit. But she's got great crafts in there! And decorating ideas! And space saving tips! And recipes with pictures of delicious looking food! Please people, go with me on this one.

But, as good a magazine as it is, it's also heavy. Especially when you have two years worth, plus the extra MSL Wedding and Holiday and Various Crap special mags. I put them all in a box with the idea of moving them into storage, but it may as well be a box of bricks. Can. Not. Lift.

So, I spent half of last night and will continue the project tonight, going through each issue and tearing out the pages with the projects that I may want to try in the future. Or the recipes that look awesome, despite being far too rich for my slow metabolism.

I still have doubts about being ready for the inspection on Friday, two hours before having to be at the airport. But Rob assures me I'll get it done. He has way more faith than I do.

Sneak preview?

2004-07-27T09:24:00.000-05:00

So... anyone want a sneak-preview of my redesign?

Not that this is going to be some amazing unveiling when it's ready, but I'm just looking for some honest feedback.

Thanks to Chris, who I harassed via IM yesterday for his input. HIs good help resulted in a better match between banner and background.

It's in a major state of construction, though. Heed that warning, and don't trip over the cordless drill.

Moving still sucks. But I'm making progress.

2004-07-26T10:21:00.000-05:00

A huge truck-load of stuff went into storage last night, so I'm well on my way to being moved out.

That said, there is still so much to do, I'm feeling quite stressed right now. I know it will get done. It always does. And I have no choice about that -- my stuff has to be out, period. Even if it's not properly packed or whatever. It's just gotta be out. I may have to skip Ultimate tonight.

I got my first feeling of sadness last night before bed. I really love that apartment. I know my moving out represents a new chapter in my life -- the chapter where I become an adult and actually own a house. (To this point I'd consider myself semi-adult. Other than paying rent on time, what responsibilities did I have? No lawn to cut, no flowerbed to tend, no repairs or maintenance... etc.) That's if I can find something I can afford. That, of course, is a WHOLE other story. We'll worry about that once my apartment is empty.

Moving. Sucks.

2004-07-25T12:38:00.000-05:00

I am moving. And I hate it.

It's endless. Things just keep coming out of the cupboards and closets and drawers. I have so many things that I don't know what to do with. A perfectly good coffee maker that I don't need because I have my awesome, amazing, brand-new, espresso maker which ALSO has a regular coffee maker built in. A microwave stand that has been doubling as a printer stand. A big, deep soup-pot with a spaghetti strainer. My first frying pan.

I have so much stuff that I SHOULD give to goodwill, but it's such a hassle because I live on the third-floor of a walk-up apartment. So, into the trash it goes. (Not the stuff I just listed, those are taking up space on my balcony because I don't know what to do with them.)

Then, as I throw more and more things out, I start to ask myself, "Why on earth did I KEEP this?" Like my broken VCR. Like the Sony CD/Cassette player that would cost more to fix than to simply replace. Like the jeans I bought five or six years ago, before dark-wash, low-rise, wide-legged pants were in fashion (finally). Why would I keep those monstrosities? Yet, there they sit. Taking up space.

Then I start to think, "I packed a bunch of other stuff that I should have thrown out. But I can't start opening boxes now."

I may die in the process from sheer frustration and stress. Pray for me, that I get this all done before I leave for Vancouver on Friday morning.

(YAAY, VANCOUVER.)

A joke gone WAY too far...?

2004-07-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

Oh. My. God.

I just received a forward from a Blogging friend of mine. I normally just delete forwards, I don't usually bother to read them. (Sorry folks. Not trying to be ungrateful for being included but I hate getting those things in my email box.)

Today, though, I opened one because I wasn't sure what it was. My pal Cyn forwarded a "letter" to me. A funny letter, allegedly written to Tide in regards to their detergent.

I started reading. It sounded familiar. I continued reading.

Oh. My. God.

My friend Colin wrote this letter! But it was never meant to be a forward! Colin, Rob and I had been hanging out at my apartment one night, eating pizza and drinking beer. We hauled out my collection of "Letters From A Nut" books. It's a series of books ostensibly written by a guy named Ted L. Nancy, but they're actually written by Jerry Seinfeld.

Basically, Ted L. Nancy writes these outlandish letters to companies, hotels, politicians, department stores... you name it. He writes these crazy letters, making ridiculous requests for bizarre things. He writes them to see what kind of response he can get. He wrote one NBA team to ask if it would be a problem to wear pants that had no bum, because of a skin condition. He wrote to a hotel to ask if they had found a tooth he lost while staying with them. He wrote to the Coke company letting them know that he's starting a new soft drink line called "Ciet Doke", and latter "Piet Depsi". Etc., etc., etc. These books are side-splittingly funny. Especially when the companies write back with a serious response.

Rob had written a few of his own for fun, and Colin decided to try his hand at it. He aimed high, and wrote to Tide. But he didn't get a response.

APPARENTLY, though, whoever got this letter decided to send it to a few friends and... voila... many months later, it has come full circle and landed in MY email box! Now THAT is funny.

The letter is as follows.

Dear Tide Detergent Company:

I'm writing to say what an excellent product you have! I've used Tide

detergent since the beginning of my married life, when my Mom told me it

was the best. Now that I am older and going through menopause, I find

it even better!

In fact, about a month ago, I spilled some red wine on my new white

blouse. My unfeeling and uncaring husband started to berate me about

how clumsy I was and generally started becoming a pain in the neck.

Well, one thing led to another and I ended up with a lot of his blood on

my white blouse. I tried to get the stain out using a bargain detergent,

but it just wouldn't come out. After a quick trip to the supermarket, I

purchased a bottle of liquid Tide with Bleach Alternative, and to my

surprise and satisfaction, all of the stains came out!

In fact,! the stains came out so well, that when the detectives who came

by yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse were negative.

Later, my attorney called and said that I would no longer be considered

a suspect in the disappearance of my husband.

What a relief. I thank you, once again, for having such a great

product.

Well, I gotta go now, I have to write a letter to the Hefty bag people.

Sincerely,

A Relieved Menopausal Wife

And now for something far less serious...

2004-07-23T14:51:00.000-05:00

I bumped across this on Sn0wangel's site, in her "about me" section. I like this game.

To a desert island I would take...
Person: Rob
Music: Rascall Flatts, "Melt" CD
Food: Pizza with feta and tomatoes, and beer

(It's my site, I can take a drink if I want to.)

Sn0wangel said she'd take Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches, which is a VERY good choice. But that requires milk. But, milk? On a hot desert island? I love milk as much as the next person, but milk is not so much of a thirst quencher when you're on the beach.

Bizarro Pt.2

2004-07-23T09:31:00.000-05:00

Before this morning, was last night. (This post is going to be long, so skip it if you're looking for a quick hit here.)

Big football game. Rob and I have Season Tickets with a group of my friends, but Rob graciously gave up his ticket so I could take Francois (the Belgian foreign exchange kid who is doing a swap with Rob's brother Jeff) to his first Canadian Football Game. (Graciously? Who am I kidding. I should have said "gladly". I'm the football fan in this pairing -- Rob just comes for the atmosphere.)

End of the first half, I decided to take Francois to field level to see the game from a totally different perspective. (Our seats, while really good, are rather high up.) In the three home games so far this season, I think I've run into only about two people I know. Odd. Just through my work and various activities, I know a lot of people from a lot of different walks of life, so I used to see tons of people at every game. I guess nobody I know sits up in the East Side stands, because as soon as I left the comfortable confines of the East Side... it got weird.

I used to watch the games from the sideline, right beside the players bench. Nice perk of being a sports reporter. (And they'd always come and chat with me. Nice perk of being a female sports reporter -- I'd get little nuggets of team info that the male reporters wouldn't get until much later.) SO, I took Francois down to near where I used to stand -- it's an awesome perspective. I couldn't take him right onto the sideline. Sadly, no more Media Pass. I miss that.

That's when I saw David. My ex. Who I hate. (WhoM?) He was miserable towards me during our relationship, then broke up with me but strung me along for about three months before I finally pulled the plug. It was ugly. He's a fellow sports reporter, which is why he was down there. Thankfully, he appeared to have to leave that area and (hopefully) didn't see me.

But, his boss Joe and his cameraman Randall did.

His boss didn't like me when I reported sports -- he didn't see a place for women in the locker-room. And since I was the only female working the sports beat for quite a while, he made life hell for me by spreading nasty rumors about me sleeping with players from all of the professional sports teams in this city. (Hockey, baseball and football.) It was nasty nasty. It followed me my entire career. It was NOT nice. (And, for the record, patently untrue.)

I chatted with them for about 10 minutes, all the while praying that David wouldn't come near me. In a shocking turn of events, Joe was pleasant as punch towards me, even telling me that he heard me on the radio recently and that I was sounding great. You don't understand how strange this is. Turns out, Joe's wife is pregnant with their second child. Joe is nearing 50 years old. Maybe the arrival of his second child, at that age, has made him realize that he had no reason to be such a shithead towards me or anyone else.

Chatting done, we left that area to make the long treck back to our seats.

On the way I saw the captain of my Ultimate team (Butch's Manties), a guy from my other Ultimate team (Deep ThrowIt) and a guy I used to work with at the radio station. Though I didn't know him very well.

Then.

I saw ANOTHER guy I used to work with, who quit the media to become a police officer. A guy I knew really well but lost touch with. He was a fantastic person, would give you the world, and was a consummate professional. But his life was in the process of falling apart when last we spoke.

He had dated a girl named Michelle for a few years. She wanted to marry, he was nervous about it. So she broke it off in search of someone who would marry her. He was devastated and didn't get over her. Lucky for him, a year later they were back together, living together, and engaged. Two months before the wedding? She broke it off again. Oops. He was crushed. He retreated from society and I didn't see him for a LONG time -- easily two years. Until last night. Turns out, he's now living with a woman who has a four year old son. He looks very happy. And I'm so happy for him -- he deserves some peace in his life.

As it happens, when I saw him, he was talking with a girl who I have known since kindergarten named Kayte. She? Is a monster. We were friends as kids, reconnected about 6 years ago for about six months, then I realized her true colors and quietly slipped away from her to avoid any collateral damage. She was a liar and very unethical and, frankly, she scared me. She's one of those people you keep at arms length because she's capable of a lot of damage.

Her most recent, and likely her biggest stunt, happened about a year ago. She started dating a guy named Scott. Oh. But. Scott was married at the time. And Kayte was pursuing a 54 year old man who had lots and lots and lots of money. Scott's wife (Mell) is a VERY close friend of a friend of MINE (PJ), so I heard all of the sorrid details. Scott and Mell were attending Kayte's wedding, and Mell saw the tears in Scott's eyes as Kayte walked down the aisle, keeping her eyes on Scott the whole way down. Mell figured it all out right there but stayed silent - she didn't want to believe it, as she and Scott were trying to get pregnant. Kayte married her sugar-daddy and stayed with him for about six months until he discovered her affair. He left her, and Scott left Mell. Poor Mell, is one of the sweetest women I've ever met. She's left to pick up the pieces and, as PJ tells me, is not doing very well.

It was ALLLLL so awkward, because Kayte recognized that I KNEW what had happened. I wanted to spit on her. But I managed to barely be civil. (It was funny because Francois asked later, in his heavy french accent, "But... you know her from childhood, yet you no say hello to her?" Heh. Apparently my distaste was obvious.)

The funny thing was, she was talking to my friend -- as it turned out, they were waiting for their respective partners to return from the bathroom. They had come to the game together. It made me very sad to see this fantastic guy spending time with these two pathetic and disgusting people.

A bit shaken, Francois and I continued our walk back to Section 12. He was quite amused at the whole thing. I'm walking and I hear, "KIM?!?!" Over runs an OLD friend of mine, Jodie, again someone I hadn't seen in years. Turns out. She married at 22. Her best friend was having a baby. Life was grand. Then the best friend, after her second child, took a liking to Jodie's husband. Started an affair. Jodie's husband left her about a year ago. Husband and best friend just had a baby. The divorce? Isn't yet final. Jodie has gotten on with her life and says it's the best thing that could have happened. Still? She's an awesome person and didn't deserve that. We're going to get together for coffee -- I look forward to catching up.

So, what did I learn?

I took a couple of lessons away from the game:

* Everyone knows what I'm up to. I hadn't seen any of these people for a long time, but they'd all heard through one means or another, where I was working and what I've been doing. That's creepy to me. I'm so insulated sometimes. I don't miss being among all those people who know my every move, though.

* A lot of people are way too accepting of infidelity. I personally wanted to spit on Kayte's shoes. And her face, for that matter. Slap her and tell her she's a disgusting human being. And kick Scott in the groin. Because those two? Should never be allowed to procreate and pass on their hideous genes. (I've realized, the friend who kept me up to date on the details of Scott & Mell's breakup, still spends time with both Mell and Scott, separately. As if to say to Scott, "It's okay what you did." Which it is not. I have lost a hell of a lot of respect for PJ, and don't count her among my close friends anymore.)

* Way too many good people get into horrible relationships and get very hurt. Why is this? Why do so many of us make wretchedly bad decisions? (Myself included -- I stayed with David, my ex, for a year and a half... believed him when he said he wanted to marry me, though I should NEVER have believed that... and certainly, should have run quickly away when he suggested that because he was downright bad for me.) Jodie says now that she could have seen it coming with her husband. Mell has apparently said that she's really not surprised Scott did what he did. What is the deal?

This post? Is way too long. Thus ends the recounting of my very very unsettling, bizarro evening. I'll be staying in Section 12 next game.

Bizarro World?

2004-07-23T08:50:00.000-05:00

I was "sick" yesterday. I made a miraculous recovery prior to 7pm for the football game, though. It's quite something.

I have quite a post to make about my night -- it really did feel like some sort of Bizarro World. But first, this morning. Also very bizarro.

On my way to work. I was on my usual route, though there was barely a lick of traffic. (Is it Sunday? Did I lose two days somewhere? No, it's Friday. What's going on?) I came around a curve, and saw a bunch of geese on the side of the road. They've been a regular fixture on this stretch of road for the last couple of weeks. Today? They were wandering all OVER the road. Normally when a car comes, the birds scatter. NOT TODAY. I nearly got into a colossal accident trying to swerve to avoid the bloody, f*cking geese. And the thing was, they both sort of turned and looked right at me... as if to say, "Screw you." I had visions of going back tonight and spreading poision on the side of the road. Ha.

And then...

I stopped at Starbucks, just up the road. I walked in. A really short guy walked in after me. I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I know you."

"Yeah. You look so familiar."

Then it hit me. I dated this guy the summer after 10th grade. Briefly. He was my best-friend's second cousin. Verrrry cute and sought-after by many young ladies. And he had his own car. It was weird for me because I had just begun to "come into my own", though I didn't realize it yet. (Meaning, I still saw myself as the fat, ugly kid with braces. Braces were off, so were about 20lbs.) I couldn't figure out why he liked me. He was my first real boyfriend insofar as we did "stuff". He tried to move around the bases rather quickly (got to about 2nd base before I put on the brakes) but I wouldn't sleep with him, so he found someone else who would and ditched me.

And while I was only 16 years old at the time, I still felt SO WEIRD standing near him in Starbucks this morning. I didn't want him to figure out why he knew me -- it felt like it would be a really embarassing realization. For me.

I had to supress a smile, though... he's still only about 5'2" tall and not-so-hunky anymore. I clearly turned out much better. (Tee hee.)

Talking To Americans

2004-07-21T13:52:00.000-05:00

I preface this post by saying, I love Americans. I'm not bashing them, or you personally if you are American and reading this. It's really funny, actually.

You may have noticed Shiz and I talking about Rick Mercer recently in the comments here on MittenNKim.

Rick Mercer is the former host of This Hour Has 22 Minutes, which is basically like The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, only it's more of a comedy sketch show and there are four hosts instead of one. It's a critically acclaimed program in Canada and one of my personal favorites. And, if Rick Mercer wasn't gay? I would SO have a crush on him. Smart and hilarious, with a head of cute little curls? Get outta here.

(Rob actually told me, the night we met, that he liked 22 Minutes quite a bit, which impressed me to no end. Turns out, he lied just to impress me. Though he has since grown to love it. Oh, the dilemma over forgiveness.)

Rick Mercer, though, decided that he'd been doing the show for long enough, and decided to branch off and do his own thing. One instance was an hour-long show from about two years ago, called:

TALKING TO AMERICANS.

Essentially, Rick took his "man on the street" interviews to the USA and pretended to be newsman, looking for Americans to congratulate Canada on various achievements -- thus, exposing their complete lack of knowledge about anything outside their own back yards (or general common sense, apparently). I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard at something on TV. Ever.

For instance, Arkansas Governor Michael Huckabee,

made a taped plea to Canadian officials to install air-conditioning inside of the Canadian House of Commons in Ottawa. (Which is the equivalent of the White House and the US Capitol Building in D.C., sort of.) Why? Because the House of Commons, he believed, is a big igloo and it's melting. A GIANT IGLOO. He wants us to put air conditioning in our giant igloo.

Then, there was Iowa Governor Thomas Vilsac,

who congratulated Canada on switching to the 24-hour clock. Why? Because he believed Mercer, who told him there's a buckle in the space-time continuum that made Canadian minutes longer than American minutes. But it had been fixed. The space time continuum. Fixed. To repair Canada's "time problem".

"Congratulations, Canada, for getting a McDonald's," said one man in New York City.

"Congratulations, Canada, on 800 miles of paved road!" said another New Yorker.

And, what about the groups (upon groups upon groups) of American tourists,

who believed that a Canadian company actually owns Mount Rushmore, and is planning to blow out the head of one of the presidents, and replace it with past-Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. (Some of them were okay with it. Others? Not as much.)

There were others... the people who signed a petition protesting the Canadian practice of putting senior citizens on ice flows out to sea in Saskatchewan, allowing them to perish. (Seriously.) The many congratulations on the legalization of INSULIN.

But those? Those can be forgiven. What do the Iowa and Arkansas governors, and a bunch of American tourists need to know about Canada for? Probably nothing.

But what about your leaders, dear Americans? What about your leaders.

Al Gore was not yet running for president when this was taped.

Seems Mr.Gore, who you'd think would know a little something about us, was happy to congratulate Canada on the relocation of our nation's capital from Ottawa to Toronto. Apparently it's quite believable to think that we'd just SWITCH that. On a whim. Because we like Toronto better.

Finally, your fearless leader. Dubya.

Ah, Dubya. Currently the Most Powerful Man In The World. You'd think HE would know a little something about the other leaders of the free world. And he claimed that he did, having said, "You can't stump me on world leaders!" very shortly before this bit was taped.

Rick asked him, "Mr.Bush... Mr.Bush... for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation... what's your comment on Prime Minister Jean POUTINE's comments that he supports you in your bid for President? That's Prime Minister JEAN POUTINE..." (FYI -- his name is Jean Chretien. Pron: Kray-chen. It's french.) Bush? Was happy to say that he rather respects the Prime Minister and his work, and that he appreciates the endorsement.

From Jean Poutine.

POUTINE IS FRENCH FRIES WITH CHEESE AND GRAVY.

For crying out loud. And Bush has his finger on the red button.

Editor's Note: After Bush was ambushed, Mercer tried to get Gore again and according to an interview with Mercer, he said, "An official asked us straight up, 'Are you the same people who asked George Bush if your prime minister was named after french fries? Get out before we have the state trooper throw you out.'"

Editor's Note #2: I recognize that this is a harsh generalization. Some Americans know plenty about Canada. But if you'd have seen this show? You'd be embarassed for your countrymen. Not only for their lack of knowledge of their neighbours to the north, but for not even questioning the validity of the bizarro questions Rick Mercer was asking. I know nothing about, say, Burma, but if someone told me that Burma is in a time-space continuoum that makes each day run 27.8 Canadian hours, I'd highly question it. I'm just saying. I am just saying.

My 200th Post!

2004-07-21T11:00:00.000-05:00

On this day when I got to be a guest blogger at Zoot's blog, and when Zoot is guest-blogging at AnotherPam's blog, I find myself at my 200th post. Huh. I feel like I should feel more of a sense of accomplishment or something.

I will say, I am appreciative of all of you reading and commenting. I hope I provide something at least somewhat enjoyable. And, it's been pretty neat to get to know a number of you much more closely -- good people can be hard to find and, while none of you live anywhere near me, I still feel like you are friends. I care about your lives and what's going on with you. My daily reads of your blogs is like a daily catch-up phonecall. Quite something. So, thanks to all of you.

Now, since my comments seem not to be working properly for some reason, I'm going to do a synopsis of responses to comments from this week:

On Poutine...

Shiz -- When I'm there, let's go find that french restaurant and get that poutine. I've had my fair share, including while I was in Montreal a couple of years ago, and I'm well equipped to tell you if it's worth its weight in cheese curds.

Zoot -- I had grits for the first time when I lived (OHHH so briefly) in Atlanta. They're like Cream of Wheat, sort of. I think I could get used to them. But what are they made of? That is what scares me.

On testing older drivers...

Oliquig -- See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. There are constantly stories of older people who "just didn't see" something that they hit. Luckily for your folks, it was just their car and not their bodies as they walked by that car. The highly unfortunate part of it is that there are kids who have been killed because some old grandpa who couldn't see over the dashboard, "just didn't see". I don't understand why our governments aren't more pro-active on this situation.

On the freaks stopping the mosquito fogging...

Buzz -- I didn't know spraying took place in a lot of other major cities in Canada or the US. They keep telling us that we're the only city that still does it up here, but I don't buy that. I mean, I totally get that we're spewing chemicals in the air... and since I wouldn't drink the stuff, I suspect that breathing it in isn't ideal either. BUT, they take incredible precautions... they do it late at night AND they warn us over and over before they come into our neighbourhoods, so we can be indoors and close the windows.

On "Chicks With Dicks"...

Kimberly -- Out of pure, unadultrated curiosity, I really want to go look at that site! But I'm at work, and I'd rather have my job than see that site. I'll check it out on Rob's computer. Tee.

On the flag-carrying separatist...

Kymmie -- Beat him with the flag! TEE HEE! I love it! Pure genius. And I'd love to be the one to trip the kid as he enters the colliseum. SO perfect.

Buzz -- I am so with you. Make up your mind. If you don't want to be Canadian? Leave Canada, and let a deserving young Canadian who believes in and LOVES this country (as I do) get to have one of the biggest honours of his life. (That's honour with a "u", the Canadian spelling.) SO, not only is he a wanker, he's a thief.

And, finally...

On commercials that you have to hear or see...

Zoot -- I have got to record this commercial somehow, and make an audiopost, because I giggle like a little girl every time I hear it!

Thanks everyone. More to come.

Tee hee... I appreciate good ads.

2004-07-20T15:52:00.000-05:00

There's a really funny commercial playing on the radio right now. It's for Jiffy Lube or some similar car repair place.

Little kid's voice, 5 years old or so: Daddy... are we there yet?
Dad: No, honey, not yet.
Kid: Now Daddy?
Dad: No sweetie.
Kid: Daddy, are we there YET????
Dad: Pumpkin… Daddy needs you to keep pushing the car with him, and stop nagging, okaaay?

HAHA!! Maybe you have to hear it.

I hate your country, but gimme the flag.

2004-07-20T13:32:00.000-05:00

Get this for a contradiction.

Today the Canadian Olympic Committee announced a young man named Nicholas Gill as Canada's flag bearer for the Olympics next month in Athens.

Gill happens to be a separatist.

Americans: We have this beautiful province called Quebec, which is east of Ontario. Quebec is a largely french-Canadian province. Due to many factors, there is a strong separatist movement in Quebec. They would like to separate from Canada. They don't want to be Canadians. Not all, but many. Just less than half.

We actually had a national referendum about 10 years ago (seriously, a real, live vote) to determine if they would be allowed to "leave". It was one of my most scary days as a Canadian -- the separatists lost the vote, something like 50.4% to 49.6%. We, the great majority of Canadians outside of Quebec, don't want them to leave. Unfortunately, like the granola crunchers from my previous post, the separatists are a highly feisty group and they're not going to stop until they get their way. That would be a black, black day in our history.

Anyway, to the Olympics.

Gill has gone on record as saying that he supports the separatist movement. He would like to see Quebec as its own soverign nation.

And he's carrying our flag!?

First off, I have no idea why he was chosen in the first place -- not only are there other Canadian athletes who have way bigger accomplishments, but they actually WANT TO BE CANADIANS!

Secondly, though, the kid could have turned it down. The whole flag thing is an offer. He could have very well said, "You know, given my political leanings, I think someone else should carry the flag. But thanks anyway." But he didn't!

Oh well. They gave us poutine, I suppose I shouldn't complain.

Sorry about that...

2004-07-20T13:16:00.000-05:00

Re-reading my last two posts, I think they were probably awfully boring for all of you to read.

Sorry.

It's funny -- I guess we walk that line between trying to be entertaining, and just getting stuff off our minds. Those last two posts are the latter.

Also? A blog friend who wishes to remain anonymous just emailed me. Apparently my comments aren't working. (sigh) Try back later? Please?

(I like comments. They remind me that someone really does read my blatherings.)

Oh, you have GOT to hear this.

2004-07-20T11:21:00.000-05:00

Granola crunchers are winning the war...

I'll start by saying, I just erased a LOT of typing because it was probably boring. It was background to this story. But I guess all that really needs to be said is: We have a huge mosquito problem in the city. It's like a Z-grade porno movie -- they come at you hard and fast, and there's a lot of slapping and a fair amount of fluid being excreted.

This city is known far and wide as the Mosquito Capital of Canada.

And while steps are taken to nip the problem in the bud (larviciding in the spring -- killing the bastards in their breeding grounds with harsh, harsh chemicals), you can't get 'em all. SO the city has to resort to "Adulticiding" (more porno?) when you can't go outside in the evening because they're so bad. Adulticiding is better known as:

FOGGING.

Very big and scary looking trucks fill up with the chemical Malathaion, an insecticide, and they drive the streets between 10pm and 4am, spraying this stuff in the air. There are many warnings as to which areas will be done on a given night so people can take precautions if they want. Closing windows, etc.

Health Canada says this stuff is okay, so it's fine with me.

I mean, sure, "they" used to say lead paint and asbestos were just fine too. But for now, I'll trust the modern science used to determine whether this stuff is going to kill me. Right now they say it's not, and since they're not spraying it into my soup, I don't care. (Plus, if you're really worried about it, you can register with the city to have a 100-metre buffer zone around your house -- they're required to stop spraying within that zone.)

HOWEVER.

In this city, there is a neighbourhood called Wolseley. (Wohls-lee) It is home to a very left-leaning culture. That area is referred to by the rest of us as the "Granola Belt" -- unshaven armpits, marijuana, rabid vegeterianism and feminism rule the 'hood. (Though, because of the really cool old houses, the area has actually become very trendy in recent years, which is pissing off the folks who were there before.)

Anyway, the original people in this neighbourhood are highly anti-fogging. They claim that the chemicals being used are killing our children/pets/gardens/etc/etc/etc. They've gone to some lengths in the past to stop the fogging in their area -- registering one house every 100-metres so there's no fogging in the area at all. (Which pisses off the non-hippies to no end.)

But now? It's gotten stupid. VERY stupid.

The trucks depart from a central location, which happens to be on the other side of town from Wolseley. But the Granola Munching Bolshevics hopped on their bicycles and rode over to the Insect Control Branch, and threw themselves on the ground in front of the trucks to prevent them from leaving. Now they're not just screwing their own neighbours out of relief from the bugs -- they're trying to screw ALL of us. (They actually brought some young children along too, so that the truck drivers absolutely wouldn't even try to get by.)

And they didn't try. Fogging was halted for two days. Finally, police stepped in last night and a limited fogging run happened. Not enough to make much of a difference yet, unfortunately.

Let me say this: fine if you don't want your yard sprayed. Or your neighbourhood. But FUCK RIGHT OFF, and leave my area alone. I'm paying taxes for this service. SO unless you'd like to reimburse me, GO AWAY.

I hate (HATE) environmentalists.

A new take on "Crazy Drivers"

2004-07-20T11:04:00.000-05:00

Apparently there are 34-thousand drivers in Ontario with dementia.

Just to hear that, it sounds funny. Drivers with Dementia. It sounds like the name of a band or a "Mommies group" or something. (Why does the name, "Chicks with Dicks" come to mind? Where did that COME from?)

But, no, it's actually a serious problem in the province of Ontario. Such a big problem that the provincial government there, is looking at changing the rules so that people with early stage dementia are prevented from driving.

Obviously this affects primarily older drivers. But while it's a huge safety risk for every single person on the road, including the driver who has dementia, ANY time there's a suggestion that older drivers should be regularly re-tested to make sure they're still capable enough (and have fast enough reflexes and response time and on and on) to drive? People FREAK OUT.

I will dispense with the whole argument for why I totally agree that older people should be re-tested annually AND that the standards should probably be higher for them, because they're often a hazard on the road. I could link to a litany of stories from the past two years, where an elderly driver has seriously injured or killed another driver or a pedestrian because they were driving when they shouldn't have had a license any longer. But I won't -- it's obvious. Anyone who argues it is just being a contrarian and I don't have time for them.

What I will say is this: If Ontario is JUST NOW figuring out that someone who doesn't have a full grasp on reality, shouldn't drive? Then there's a WAY bigger problem existing. It has to do with the demented idiots running that province. Perhaps THEY shouldn't be in the "drivers seat" either.

Poutine

2004-07-19T14:53:00.000-05:00

I thought everyone would know what Poutine is. Apparently not, based on the questions I've been getting about it.

Poutine is food from heaven, that's what it is.

What's IN it? Poutine (prounounced Poo-teen) is french fries, with mozarella cheese curds, covered in gravy. It was created in a small town in Quebec (Canada) in 1954, but it has sort of become a junk-food staple all over the place -- you can even get it at fast-food restaurants here. (Burger King makes a really good one. KFC's is a decent runner-up. A&W makes one, but their fries are grody so I suspect the cheese and gravy aren't even enough to save it.)

But, really, the best poutine is only found in those little hole-in-the-wall restaurants in Quebec that you'd probably avoid if you didn't know that they had the BEST. Food. Ever.

Anyway, I really did think you could find poutine elsewhere... in the States, probably, and maybe other countries? From what I'm hearing, this isn't the case. Though, please do correct me if I'm wrong.

The New Design (or, God HELP ME)

2004-07-19T12:02:00.000-05:00

So, I started working on my new design this weekend. For the love of all that is good and pretty, I am having such a hard time.

I mean, first off, I'm using Front.Page. I know that nobody worth their weight in cookies uses this program to design anything. But it's all I've got -- and really, all I know how to use. I took a look at some tutorials for CSS and, frankly, I'm just too stupid to understand.

Also? I can't afford to pay to use something like Typepad or whatever else the cool kids are using. We're moving into the "saving every penny for a house" phase of Kim's life. So, for the next six months and likely beyond, if it ain't free, I ain't havin' it.

The problem is that Front.Page doesn't really seem like it's meant to be used to design sites that are updated daily and are dynamic (always changing, as far as the size of things on the screen and whatnot). It causes many problems. For instance, I can't put a footer at the bottom of the page because of the changing size of the text box where my posts go -- it just doesn't allow for it, at least not the way I want it to be there.

But, really, the biggest trip-up is my own ability here. I look around and see SO many good looking blogs, and I want to have features from all of them... but I don't seem to have the vision to be able to do that. I want the design to represent who I am and what kind of feel this blog has (or maybe not, as I fear that I bore all but my most loyal readers... and I'm still not sure why any of you read me regularily), and I also want it to be funky and inviting. I want the casual blogger, who might stumble in here through someone else's blogroll or something, to say, "Hey, this looks cool... I might just bookmark this." (Content, notwithstanding.)

I like the crisp, clean look of Zoot and RudeCactus' blogs -- something about the white, makes them so easy to read.

And, the design doesn't influence the content of the posts. (I find that sometimes a design can overwhelm a post, or give the entire blog a certain feeling when the posts give it another, and it's a weird disconnect. For instance, I don't feel like my blog is bubble-gummy in its content, but when I had the whole pink thing going on, I felt like it gave it the wrong feel for what I was writing.)

But I also love the look of PinkLotus' page, A Town Without Ramen. She doesn't do the white thing, but it's still crisp.

THEN, there's Tenth-Muse. This woman is a designer with BlogMoxie, and her stuff is amazing. She has other skins you can check out, but this is my favorite.

So what do I do? I can't seem to blend all of these these charactaristics to make what I want. Crisp and sophisticated, yet fun. All of the components I want in my sidebar, without looking crowded or messy.

Can ANYONE help me? (Not that I know how anyone could help, now that I think of it... I just don't know what to do.)

The Horror (or, NO CAMERA, part 3.)

2004-07-17T12:46:00.000-05:00

Before I start this post, thank you to everyone who sent me an e-card for my birthday -- so very sweet of you all to take the time to do that for me. Now why don't all of you live nearer to me, so we could all hang out like the uber-cool group of people that we are?

Now for something we hope you really like...

Ok. So. If you've been reading lately, you'll know that I keep coming across things that totally deserve to be photographed and posted... but I never have my camera with me when I see them.

Most notably, was the womanin the thong, a couple of weeks ago.

Well, when I left the house this morning, I looked back at my digital camera on the dining room table and thought, "Should I take it?" Nah. What am I going to see?

I was driving and saw a huge car with a massive St.Bernard in the back seat, so gigantic, that it didn't really fit in the car so it HAD to hang its head out the window to fit. "Funny," I thought, but not critical to catch on film.

Then? I pulled up to the corner of Broadway and O&sborn.

THE WOMAN IN THE THONG WAS BACK.

Thank GOD (thankGodthankGodthankGod) she was in a pair of aqua-colored shorts that managed to cover her butt-cheeks.

Even so, if I had just had my camera with me, I could have proved to the world that this freak of nature (come on, you have to admit... 300lb. woman in a thong, bending over on the boulevard IS FREAKISH) did really exist and nearly cause me to crash my car in horror!

You know that if I bring my camera tomorrow, she won't be there. (sigh)

Mah Birthday

2004-07-16T21:09:00.000-05:00

It's 9:09pm, so my birthday is nearing its close. (Three hours, or something?)

My day was uneventful prior to 4pm -- I made a delicious iced latte in
the morning with my still-new, still-awesome espresso machine... work
was borrrrrring... me and Peter, our temporary designer, sat and
chatted outside at lunch which was nice because I found out that he's a
really funny guy (on top of being pretty hunky)(he's taken, and so am
I. Very happily, thanks.)

But then Rob came to pick me up at
4pm. I had to stop at the bank because my amazing bank lady got me an
extention on my line of credit (I now have $17,000 available!) so I can
consolodate my debt on this very-low-interest-rate credit line and have
room left over. That
was a happy moment. But WAY MORE happy than
that was getting to my place where Rob had cleaned my apartment from
top to bottom, had a beautiful bottle of red wine waiting with some
lemon-pepper steaks and grilled asparagus, and a beautiful card with some delicious smelling
massage oil.

I EVEN got a card from Mitten. Despite only having paws, and no job, he
managed to get a card AND a pack of lottery tickets for me to play.
Amazing cat, isn't he?

Did also I mention that he (Rob)
actually bought me www[dot]mittennkim[dot]com? I'll get to launching
the re-design soon, on that address.

Unfortunately, the fun has been stalled as I'm currently waiting for Rob here at his folks' house.
We had to stop by here to borrow a vehicle so he can go golfing at 6am tomorrow. He is

currently trying to make a badminton net for his brother Jeff and
Francios, the Belgian exchange student, who were playing badminton on
the street. Unfortunately, Rob doesn't have the PARTS for this
endeavor. So, he is MacGyvering up a net, with some plastic sticks, a
power drill and two wooden blocks.

As you can imagine, it's not working.

Happy Birthday to me!
We're going back to my place to watch the English Patient, one of my
top movies of all time. I have the bestest boy ever. Evah. EVAH.

We'll leave just as soon as he figures out that he is indeed NOT MacGyver. This could take a while.

Ya, I'm still on a diet... so what?

2004-07-16T13:20:00.000-05:00

I just had half a cookie.

Because I could.

(Kim scrolls down...)

WTF? Where did these new features come from? Why did I not notice them this morning? What is going ON?

I need the other half of that cookie.

I can do what I want!

2004-07-16T11:01:00.000-05:00

It's my birthday, so in honor of that, I'm changing my template.

I'm just using another Blogger template, which I hate to do, but I won't have time to do a full re-design as mentioned yesterday, until August sometime. I have too much to do in the next two weeks, with moving and going to two weddings (one across the country in Vancouver.)

So, enjoy the Blogger template.

No Babies, Please

2004-07-16T08:47:00.000-05:00

For me, that is.

I had a dream last night, that Rob and I had a baby. Really cute little guy, with bright green eyes (like mine! but brighter!) It's funny how reality creeps into even the most bizarre dreams, because I remember saying to myself in the dream, "I don't remember being pregnant. I'm sure I would have remembered, because I know I would have hated feeling fat." (Hey, I'm obsessed, I admit it.)

In any case, I woke up realizing that I am completely and totally not ready for children yet. I have had a slight feeling of envy lately, watching my pregnant friends waddle around in that blissful, pregnant-glowing way (except Catherine, who had a hell of a pregnancy and could not be happier to have her body back... the rest of them, Renelle, Cheryl, Geri, Meera... they're the pictures of "perfect glowing pregnancy".) I'm not sure what that was about, but I know now that I don't want to be in that place yet. I'm perfectly happy being selfish and lazy and all of that for a few more years.

(Hey, I'm allowed -- especially today... being my BIRTHDAY and all. Ha!)

[That gratuitous birthday plug brought to you by Starbucks, MAC Makeup and ricotta cheese.]

Speaking of which, Rob is making me dinner and taking me to The Notebook tonight, which I'm rather excited about. What's better than a weepy romance on your birthday? Only pizza from Paradise Restaurant, but in my current state of shedding pounds it's probably not a wise menu choice.

Revisiting my design

2004-07-15T14:11:00.000-05:00

Ok. I must re-design this blog. That's all there is to it. I don't like this pink, it's too... blah.

I need something more exciting, yet bright. But not too cluttered. I think I have realized that some of my favorite blogs are simply designed. Mine must be also. Maybe more people will read. (Or maybe I have to be a better writer, then they'll read.)

Anyway, I'm going to get on that. Soon. Really. And that will be the LAST redesign. Ever. Ok, not ever, but for a while.

Two Hour Lunch

2004-07-15T14:10:00.000-05:00

It's about +30 celcius today... perfectly sunny under a crystal blue sky. I met my friend Kenton for lunch (who now knows of my blog -- Kenton, don't out me!) at Earl's Restaurant, where we sat on the patio and chatted away for a couple of hours. I had a beautiful glass of wine and while I'm not drunk I definitely need a nap.

Thank God my boss is away for the afternoon.

I was SO very wrong

2004-07-15T11:13:00.000-05:00

I love my new, free becuase I have "reward points" on my credit card, espresso machine.

L.O.V.E.

Or as some blog people have taken to saying, "Lurve!" (or something, I don't understand really.)

What happened was, when I first opened the box and pulled out the instructions, I read them instead of looking at the machine. I don't know who wrote them but I don't know many nuclear scientists who could decipher them.

(Though, there were some amusing points, where the manual explained how to plug the machine in... I should post them because they're clearly written to ward off law-suits by rednecks who don't understand the workings of electricity.)

Anyway, once I actually looked at the machine and realized that the instructions were the only difficult parts -- not the machine -- I proceeded to make myself a nice iced latte, and it was beautiful. I actually saved my plastic cup, lid, and straw from my Starbucks stop the day before so I could get the real feel of the drink. You know, see if it stood the Starbucks test.

I wasn't exact, even though I did use Starbucks' Espresso Roast, which I bought yesterday morning. But still? Sooo good. And obviously so much cheaper this way. $4.05 versus $2.50 for the entire 2L of skim milk. La la la. I now have to figure out how to make it stronger without making it more bitter. There are lots of knobs and buttons, so I'm sure this is possible.

But what was gross? My milk, which still has a good week until expiry, appeared to pour a bit weird when I put it into the cup. I thought I was imaging things, so I poured my whole 2 cups into the plastic cup then added the espresso shots. UGH. It got all curdled and sick-looking. The weird thing was, it didn't SMELL sour. You know that smell, when the milk has gone past its expiry. Like feet. Bad feet that have been in old runners with no socks on a hot day. It didn't have that. Which it shouldn't have since it was NOT over its exipry.

Thankfully I had the foresight to buy a second carton of milk last night, just in case. In case of what? I didn't know then, but now I do: in case of curdled milk.

Hurray for my free espresso machine!

Do you want to pee a little bit while you're at your desk?

2004-07-14T14:04:00.000-05:00

From LAUGHING, people.

I stumbled upon retroCrush.com today, and I've been sitting at my desk nearly-peeing-myself. My boss must know how little I do all day, lately, because I'm always giggling to myself.

Read this post first. Then go to "Main" and read the post there, with the pictures from India.

OH, I love the internet. It will be the cause of future unemployment, I'm sure, but I love it.

How Canadian is this?

2004-07-14T12:01:00.000-05:00

Traffic in a part of northwestern Ontario is at a complete standstill right now because a highway had to be closed this morning for cleanup and repair.

Cleanup of what, you ask?

A BEAVER DAM on a river near the highway exploded, flooding the entire highway, making it totally impassable.

A beaver dam!!

How typically Canadian, eh?

Edit: For the record, I have never seen a beaver, nor have I been on a dog-sled. I don't own snow-shoes, and I've never seen an igloo either.

I never have my camera...

2004-07-14T09:49:00.000-05:00

In the last couple of weeks, there have been so many instances where I've seen something TOTALLY photograph-worthy, that I would have loved to have captured in order to post on my blog... but didn't have my camera.

There was the 350-pound woman in the middle of a boulevard wearing a THONG, there was the guy who had a milk-crate strapped to his motorcycle and his little dog wearing aviator sunglasses riding inside... on and on. There have been many.

Even this morning, I was riding to work and I pulled up beside a man in a pick-up truck, in full Amish gear (hat, beard, etc.), with his hand stuck up his nose, nearly up to his fist. And he didn't stop when he saw me staring.

But I DID have my camera when I was driving home from work yesterday when I pulled up, two lanes away, from two VERY mean looking H&e&l&l&s A&n&g&e&l&s.

"Hey, guys... I know you're probably just on your way to murder someone then sell some crack to some hoooookers... but would you mind if I took a picture of you on your big, big, mean-looking bikes? Because I want to show my world-wide friends on the internet that I was driving beside you."

*bang* *bang* *bang* And Kim is dead in her car.

4-6 weeks? Try 4-6 DAYS!

2004-07-14T09:24:00.000-05:00

The espresso machine has arrived!

I had it sent to my folks' house, since it was supposed to arrive in a month and that's where I'll be living. My sister found the Purolator slip and phoned me with the info. Except, she said it was at the Fed Ex depot, so Rob and I went there first and fully confused the clerks who couldn't figure out why a number was missing that they needed to locate the package. Oops. We quickly scurried over to Purolator and got it.

I'm not sure I like it.

It doesn't work like I thought it would. I basically wanted a machine that would pour the espresso out through its little spout -- and had the thing that sticks out to make steamed milk. (You see clearly that I know all of the technical latte and capuccino making terms.) But it doesn't. It has some "automatic" steaming function that I don't understand. The instruction book is pages and pages long, and it makes very little sense. (sigh) You can ask Rob, I'm very good at figuring these sorts of things out. This one? Not so much.

I may be returning this item. The macine I WANT, a simple espresso machine with the milk steamer, I just found on EBay -- and the bid is at $15.00 right now. Oy.

It's beyond ridiculous.

2004-07-13T13:15:00.000-05:00

There's a story out of Thialand today, where they're holding the 15th Annual International AIDS conference.

Apparently a caretaker working the grounds of the conference location, drunkenly stumbled up to an elephant in heat, and was promptly gorged and stomped-upon. He died.

Yes, that's ridiculous in itself. But read what one article said about the incident:

Mr Somsak is believed to have been killed by the elephant when he got too close to the animal, which had been tied to a tree behind the conference centre on the outskirts of Bangkok, police said.

The elephant was tied to a tree? Tied to a tree. Sure. Sounds like the perfect place to park an Elephant in a major hormonal state.

Next:

He said the victim was drunk when the animal rammed its tusks into his abdomen. Police did not say whether he was intoxicated.

What on earth is the difference?

But the best is this:

Police said the elephant's mahout, or handler, denied the beast attacked the man.

'We have to test the mud (on its feet), and look for a possible bloodstain on the elephant,' Maj Amnaj said.

There's a joke about OJ's lawyers in there somewhere, but I'll pass.

Can't Live Without Ricotta

2004-07-13T12:58:00.000-05:00

If you haven't already, please check out my previous post about the wedding. I'm just so proud of and happy for my friends (and, no, they don't know this site exists so I'm not winning points by talking about this.)

Moving on...

As I was driving home from the grocery store last night, $150 later, I was thinking, "Geez, that's a lot of money to feed one person." But, I do eat very healthy these days and fresh food is way more expensive than packaged food. I got to thinking, "What didn't I really need?" But I couldn't come up with anything. Brocolli... chicken... cottage cheese... kidney beans... Crystal Lite... It doesn't take a lot of groceries to get to $150, especially when you're buying dish soap and dishwasher detergent.

That got me to thinking, what items can I absolutely NOT live without in the kitchen?

1. Ricotta Cheese
2. Balsamic Vinegar
3. Olive Oil
4. Montreal Steak Spice
5. Vanilla extract
6. Red bell peppers
7. Feta Cheese

Obviously there are more, but if I had to scale down my shopping list, those things would never be touched. They are must-haves. I put the "steak spice" on all meat. It's to-die-for. And I eat ricotta every day in one form or another. Ditto for the red peppers and feta. They're the all-purpose foods.

You?

Wedding Pictures

2004-07-13T10:11:00.000-05:00

No, not my wedding. Stacey's wedding, which I was a part of.

The bride, groom, and her nephews...

Our flowers...

The wedding party...

(I'm the one in the red dress, bottom left, laughing at something. I look like a cartoon character in pictures.)

It was a perfect day.

I love Starbucks.

2004-07-13T09:01:00.000-05:00

So why don't you marry it?

Maybe I will.

Iced, grande, non-fat, light ice latte... I love you.

(Translation: medium iced coffee with skim milk.)

Googling MittenNKim

2004-07-12T14:30:00.000-05:00

I love that I have figured out how to see how people found my page. Obviously people are coming here off of others' sites, via Blogrolls and such. But the Google searches are the most fun.

how much does michael vartan weigh?
raj binder
reduced fat orange loaf
song used in starbucks double shot espresso commercial

These are some of the most recent, and I understand them all. But what is the deal with the endless searches for Coco Arquette? I'm getting a ton every day. This makes so little sense.

Storage Decisions

2004-07-12T12:25:00.000-05:00

Who knew moving to your parents' house would be wrought with so many decisions?

I have to put my stuff into storage. If you think finding a good storage facility would be an easy task? You'd be wrong.

I have been making phone calls all morning. Either they're way too expensive for what you get, or they're more affordable and bigger but without adequate security. My stuff isn't worth a lot, but it's still my stuff and I'd like it to actually be there when I move back out of my folks' house in six months.

I think I've decided to go with the U-Haul facility, which is near my workplace. It's about $95/month (that's after taxes.) I went there and checked it out at lunch, and I'm comfortable with the thought of my stuff being there through the winter. I had checked out the 2-Amigo's storage place prior to going to the U-Haul, as it is RIGHT across the street from my work, but it turned me off. It's a huge warehouse, and they put your stuff into these big wooden crates, that are stacked in the warehouse. I'm sure it's safe but I don't really want to be keeping my stuff in a big, wooden box. I could put it in my parents' yard in a wooden box, for all the protection it would get. (And it was very very very damp in there.)

But, I guess $100/month is far cheaper than what I'm paying now, right? Yes. Much. I think $25 of that is the charge for peace of mind.

My damn bum muscle.

2004-07-11T11:58:00.000-05:00

I forgot to post -- I went for my massage appointment on Thursday after work. I figured that I'd better get the bum muscle taken care of before the wedding, as I knew I'd be on my feet for most of the day. (Looking spectaular, of course.)

I went to a place I had never been before, as I had a gift certificate from a friend for an hour of massage therapy. I got an appointment with "Mark", who is a full-time police officer and part-time massage therapist.

He was very good, as far as explaining exactly what he was doing and what muscles were affected by what. He worked hard on that area of my lower back that connects to the muscle that runs down the bum, and into the thigh. Also showed me some really good stretches to do.

Today? It's 100 times worse than it was before the massage. What? The? Hell? I was trying to bend over this morning to get some stuff together to come to work (part-time job), and it was killing me. It still hurts right now. The worst pain is in the small of my lower back on the right side. But occasionally the pain radiates all the way down my leg.

So NOW what do I do?

Two and a half days off

2004-07-11T11:43:00.000-05:00

I feel so out of the loop...

I have returned, after a day and a half off work plus an entire weekend day off, unfettered by any committments to my part-time gig. Whee, it's been nice. I got to SLEEP IN yesterday, that was something else.

If you've tuned in recently, you'll know that I was a bridesmaid in my former-roommate's wedding on Friday. I'm happy to report, it was a fantastic day. Probably the most fun I've had being involved with a wedding, and I've been involved with many. I may post a picture or two. The bride was stunning, the ceremony went without a hitch, dinner was nice (though one of the other bridesmaids claims to have gotten food poisioning... since nobody else did, I'm thinking that she drank way too much at the reception and is trying to blame it on something else), and the speeches were very lovely and moving and tear-jerking and la la la.

Now, two more weddings this summer and I'm done -- thankfully I'm just a guest at both of them, as opposed to a participant. It's a tiring committment.

In other news, we saw Spiderman2 last night and it was so-very-good. I love that Tobey Maguire, and I actually enjoyed Kirsten Dunst's performance. "Go get 'em, Tiger." Indeed. Next up, "The Notebook", which I'm hearing is the best love story in years.

Someone is a little too keen.

2004-07-07T16:12:00.000-05:00

I finally just figured out how to see which search words or links brought people to my humble little blog. (Yeah, I'm pretty slow. The cool kids have been doing this for a long time.)

This afternoon, some AOL customer who googled "coco arquette" obviously based on an old post of mine, has come back to my page nearly 20 times in the last couple of hours. Every few minutes, said person returns. It's doing nice things to my hit-counter mind you but I don't know why he or she keeps going away and coming back.

Aol[dot]com, is there something I can help you with? Is that post so witty, you've had to read it over and over and over, showing friends and family and co-workers all day long?

Though, I did notice that someone found my post about the Starbucks Double Shot commercial featuring the "Glen" song, which is going down as my all-time favorite.

Espresso will be mine!

2004-07-07T16:05:00.000-05:00

Why I didn't think of this sooner, I'm not sure.

I have points, through my credit card. I get a point for every dollar I spend. Those points can be cashed in through this particular credit card rewards program, for the item of my choice in the catalogue.

This is the item of my choice:

The espresso machine I have been whining about not being able to afford. I will soon (4-6 weeks) be sipping deliciously brewed espresso -- brewed with fresh Starbucks beans, naturally.

(They're always going to get SOME of my money. I've accepted it.)

It's like the classic corporate joke.

2004-07-07T12:55:00.000-05:00

There were recently major budget cuts at the place I work. Those funding cuts had implications on our Computer Services department.

Essentially, we used to have a Help Desk that we called for tech support. You'd leave your message, they'd put your case in the queue, and get to you eventually -- whether it be remotely or sending a tech person up to physically fix your machine. It wasn't great, but it worked. Slowly, but it worked.

But then those budget cuts came and it all changed. Phone line was disconnected, people in that office were scattered all over the rest of the building. And the new system? Can hardly be taken seriously because it's so assenine.

There is no longer a Help Desk. No phone line to call for support. Instead, if you have a problem, you must file an online case-log to get help.

Yes. If you have a broken computer, you have to go ONLINE so you can get it fixed.

I am not kidding. Not one bit.

You can see how this system may not last.

Firefox? I'm sold.

2004-07-07T12:14:00.000-05:00

If you didn't read my previous post about why you should dump In.t.e.rnet E.xpl.or.er and get MOZILLA FIREFOX, there are now more reasons.

The dilly-o, as I understand it, is: IE has some huge vulnerabilities that Billy G. and Co. should have long-ago fixed, but didn't. Those vulerabilities allow hacker-types to go in, place a tracker-thingy on your system and steal your banking info (or whatever else valuable info you have on your computer). Billy G. & Co. played catch-up and finally made a patch for this, even though they already knew this problem existed... but didn't make one for ANOTHER hole, which is now being exposed and exploited. And they haven't done anything about it yet.

Apparently some people don't like this Firefox browser because it's pretty barebones. But by some total freak of fate, I fell upon a site and a link that allows users to modify Firefox and make it even better. Go here.

So, I say, go get Mozilla Firefox.

I gave it another try, I can indeed look at my own blog (because I need to read, and re-read my own musings often), and it's generally quite awesome.

It's WAY faster in loading pages than IE... it's also got a ton of neat little features, and I am just so enjoying it. So so so much.

Get it. And while you're at it, tell ole Billy and his IE to shove it.

My bum muscle hurts

2004-07-07T11:26:00.000-05:00

I'll preface this by saying that, if you've read Loading, Ready... Run., today, then you'll already know about this: I hurt my bum muscle playing Ultimate last night.

When I say "bum muscle", I think I'm talking about the sciatic nerve/muscle... but I can't be sure that's what it is, and I like the sound of "bum muscle" better anyway.

Actually, I hurt it last week but it flared up last night. I thought it was healed. Well, no, I think something has to be definitely injured to have to heal, and it just seemed to be temporarily painful last week.

I'm not sure what to do about this bum muscle problem, and I hope and pray this isn't going to be a recurring injury (it's definitely injured now, as I'm sitting at my desk and it's throbbing.)

I have a gift certificate for a massage, which is good since I have no medical benefits at my job yet because I'm still officially considered "temporary". So I would have to pay $50 or $60 or $65 for an hour massage, money that I don't have right now (thanks to the Most Expensive Wedding of the Century, which takes place on Friday, in which I'm a bridesmaid). I have to call to find out if they do theraputic/sports injury massage, as opposed to the lovely relaxing massages that the name "De-Stress Stop" implies.

The lovely relaxing massage sounds quite nice right now, but it's not going to help my bum muscle.

Blogger still busted.

2004-07-06T15:21:00.000-05:00

Ok, what is going on?

It takes 20 minutes of refreshing, fiddling and playing around to even put up a post on my blog right now. Never mind the multiple refreshes to read other blogspot blogs.

I LOVE BLOGGER. I do, really, I do.

But as lame as my blog may be, I die a little bit every time I can't post properly.

IE, Pt.II

2004-07-06T15:06:00.000-05:00

I posted that last post simply on principle -- the only thing hackers will get by stealing my banking information is debt.

Lots and lots of debt.

Is it even worth it to have IE anymore?

2004-07-06T14:55:00.000-05:00

I was checking out a site I haven't read for a while, Ugly Green Chair, when I came across a link to a link to a... la la la.

Anyway, check this out:

A link to an article about the latest bug in IE, that will allow those anonymous internet jerks who keep sending me spam about Penis Enlargement to steal your banking info. It also provides a link to a new browser, which I downloaded and installed.

Only problem? I loaded it up, and was able to go to Google, and to read the latest entries on Zoot's gassy son (sorry Zoot), and go to the forum I post on and all of that. But the one site that I can't see? MittenNKim.

Yes, it won't load my own page.

And, we're done with THAT.