gotta have my pop!

she's sick.

Woke up this morning barely able to swallow and with more snot than brain inside my noggin. I have since deteriorated -- I now have sandbag legs, a killer sinus headache, and a variety of general aches and pains. I went downstairs to grab some chicken noodle from the market at lunchtime and I felt like I was running the last leg of a marathon. I don't get it -- I was fine yesterday! I hate it when these things sneak up on you. I prefer a few days of lethargy to forewarn me before I get sick. Take note, God.

Thank goodness it's a quiet day at work. I'm suffering in peace, and hopepfully I can wrap up the day around four. Can't wait to be lying on the couch, awash in self-pity. It's the best part of being sick, really.

I don't have the energy to think any more. If you're lucky, I'll check in for some more bitching tomorrow.

I want my Mommy.

let's get married.

Oh my goodness. Could I be busier right now? I'm being so neglectful of poor bloggy.

I'm in the throes of wedding mania these days, although it's somewhat minor compared to last year (I had 8 of them, most within a three-month period). If it was just the weddings, I'd be OK, but there's the engagement parties, the showers, the stagettes...it all adds up to a ton of time and about 50 tons of money. So I'm trying like hell all week to get all my work done so that I can take off the weekends -- gotta travel for all these things, which means all day Saturday and Sunday -- looong hours during the week have been the result. Not surprisingly, I'm not feeling too fresh and rested right now.

I do love a good wedding, but they're tough to get through when you're a single gal travelling solo. All those "So...are you dating anyone?" conversations that leave them with a pitying look on their faces and you with the intense desire to sucker-punch the bride...it gets old pretty fast. And could there be anything more degrading than the bouquet toss? Let's gather up all the sad single women and watch them fight over a bunch of flowers like a pack of wild dogs! It's amusing to see them trying to grasp at a last shred of hope that they won't be alone forever, isn't it? Boooo. As time goes by, they get even worse, because the numbers of single women are rapidly diminishing. Can't wait until the day when I'm out on the dance floor alone. I think I'd rather throw myself through a plate-glass window. When I get hitched, there will be no bouquet toss, I promise you that. Maybe I'll cook up something to humiliate the married women for once.

c'mon get happy.

Happiness is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Happiness is a choice...nope...not working.

Work hell continues. I'm trying to remain optimistic and positive about the situation, but it's hard. The only thing that I can come up with at the moment is the fact that the crazy eyelid twitch I've been suffering from for the past five weeks seems to have abated. It can't be because my stress has lessened...perhaps the muscle has died up there and I'm going to look like Droopy Dawg on the one side soon.

I was greatful last night that I was able to escape from the clutches of the Evil Agency in time to watch the finale of The Amazing Race. And so excited that my favourite couple, Chip and Kim, won the whole shebang. I was amazed -- my favourites never win! It was a very suspenseful episode...best one I've seen yet. The only negative was the fact that it was the last one for a while. I'll miss it. Favourite line: The Christ-lovin' couple, Brandon and Nicole, are snowshoeing up a steep hill in Calgary and Nicole begins to fade. Brandon turns to her and says: "Just pretend that Jesus is standing at the top of the hill with his arms wide open and you're running toward him, Nicole. Run to Jesus." Hilarious. Not sure how motivating it is, though. Imagining oneself running toward Jesus might make inspire visions of -- I don't know -- DYING? Just a thought.

Wierd Google hit today: "Zach Braff farting". What the hell?

what's golden?

I'm back from the stagette party, and although I hate to disappoint, I have to say that it was a lot tamer than I was expecting. Something about drinking out in the blazing sun all day that makes you want to go to bed early. The sex toy party was a blast, though. No, I didn't purchase a vibrator, in case you were wondering. It may or may not be because I already have one, but I'm not admiting to a thing. There was one reeeally impressive little guy for sale...the Aural Beam. It lit up like the floor at Studio 54 -- blue to red to green to yellow to white. You could seriously use the thing to bring in an aircraft. And all for just $119.95 -- what a deal! I have at least one friend who took advantage of it. The Aural Beam's only negative was that the penis itself had a face on it -- and it looked an awful lot like Princess Leia. Which I guess some people might be able to get past, but for me, the idea of Han Solo's girlfriend poking around in my nether reigons would likely kill the mood. So I passed.

Watched the Emmys when I got home last night. I made sure to catch E!'s pre-show coverage to see who would be taking the place of the cringe-worthy Joan Rivers on the red carpet. Hmmmm....Star Jones from The View. Seems strange that, given the opportunity to switch hosts, E! would choose a personality who's almost as universally despised as Ms. Rivers, but, hey, who's criticizing? Guess I'm about to.

GOOD: She didn't mess up anyone's name; she knew who was on which TV show (something Joan always seems to mess up -- must be that senile dementia); she didn't appear to offend anyone, and there were no awkward pauses in her small talk.

BAD: She made her poor exploited fiance stand directly off-camera and pointed him out to every celebrity she interviewed, even obnoxiously comparing diamond size with some of the female interviewees; she changed clothes during the show, then insisted on pointing that out to every celebrity she interviewed. She also had a huge calendar with her -- putting the celebrities in the uncomfortable position of "choosing a date during February Sweeps" in which to appear on The View. It was the only time I've ever seen Ellen DeGeneres get even slightly rude. All in all, I'd give Star a C+ on the effort. At least E! was better than the network coverage, which had Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy interviewing the celebrities. I almost threw up my Chinese take-out when I caught a whiff of that crap.

There were some nice surprises last night, like the recognition of the brilliant Arrested Development in the comedy category. Love that show. It's so twisted. Plus, I've had a major crush on Jason Bateman since his Hogan Family days. He was robbed -- not even a nomination. Next year, that's gonna change. Mark my words.

My best dressed, in case you're wondering: Mariska Hargitay and Drea DeMatteo, hands down. Worst: Colin from The Amazing Race, who wore an ill-fitting pinstriped number with an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt underneath it. Classy. Can't wait to see him lose this week on the finale.

please release me.

Who's feeling bitchy? Oooh! Oooh! I am! I am!

I am trapped in an editing studio, as I have been all week, 16 hours a day, putting together a useless client video that they kindly gave us six whole days to do. Don't want to complain too much, but it really has been a shitter, this week, I've had. Really looking forward to putting this one behind me. Sleep would be a nice change.

At least I get to escape the city for a weekend -- I have a friend's stagette party to go to, and we're (Joy of joys!) going to a lovely cottage to have it, complete with a sex toy party and a bunch of other fun secret things that I've yet to learn about. It should be a blast...and I really don't think that I've ever needed a good piss-up more than I do this weekend. The party's tomorrow, and tonight we're just going to be relaxing and cozying up in there. Aaaaaaaah. So excited.

I'd love to comment on what fun things I've done or what fun TV I've seen, but since I haven't done anything but edit and sleep this week, I got nuthin'.

Back Sunday. I'm sure I'll have some good stuff for you then.

riders on the storm.

As I sit down to write this blog entry, I am realizing that I really don't have much to say. Perhaps it's because I worked all weekend instead of going out and having fun like the rest of my friends did. Put in a full 12 hours yesterday, and boy, was I happy about it. I'm still feeling the joy today. You should all be glad that you don't have to share an office with me this morning. I am a hose beast. Trust me. It's like PMS on speed today.

I'm extra-upset about having to work because I didn't have a chance to watch any news coverage of Hurricane Ivan this weekend. I'm obsessed with hurricanes, and bad weather in general. I hear a hurricane's a'comin' and I am glued to the tube. I know they're awful and they cause damage and deaths and all that, but they're just so damned exciting, aren't they? My favourite part of hurricane coverage is watching all those poor news correspondents they ship down to the storm centres get drenched by the torrential rains as they try their darndest to stay upright. The Hurricane Andrew-era image of Dan Rather clinging to a pole for dear life (with the hood on his rain slicker pulled tight enough to completely obscure his eyes) is forever burned into my brain. It was so hilarious. I wonder if the networks know (or care) that they're putting their lives at risk. I guess that if one of them got blown clear into the ocean, ratings would go through the roof.

these are the thoughts.

Randomness abounds today...

I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I title all my posts with song names and lyrics which relate to what I'm writing about. I started doing it from the beginning, and I feel like I have to keep going for consistency's sake. Little Type-A about these sorts of things. So yesterday, in a nod to the Talking Heads, I titled my post "Totally Nude." Well, you really can't imagine how many people are now coming to my blog looking for porn. Apparently the fact that the terms "Olsen Twins," "naughty", "Playboy" and, inexplicably, "XXX" (God knows when I mentioned THAT -- I don't remember talking about Vin Diesel...) are assisting people in finding l'il old me. I don't have the dirty stuff, folks! Go buy yourself a Juggs or something.

Goodness, this is disturbing. I honestly don't know what motivates people sometimes.

I took a taxi to work this morning, and was looking at all the lovely graffitti on my way. Sure is a lot of it in this city. Among all the tags and scribbles, I noticed that someone had spray-painted "Val Kilmer" on the side of a building. Not "Val Kilmer sucks", which I would have understood, but just "Val Kilmer". What's the deal with that? Surely he didn't do it himself. It was so random, I had to mention it.

And finally, I'd like to say that I am outraged that my boyfriend Jacob Hoggard was eliminated from Canadian Idol last night. He was robbed! I love the Idol shows, but never before have I seen a competitor who made me think: "Wow. I can't wait to buy this guy's album." He rules. And, you know, I can't wait to buy his album. Call me a teeny-bopper if you will, but I say watch out for this guy.

totally nude.

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I'm using my new gym membership. I never thought that this could happen. It's a really good gym -- the first one that hasn't intimidated me to death. Everyone is normal-looking (read: no scary juice pigs), good machines, great atmosphere...plus it's right downstairs from my office, so I can go on my lunch hour. I could be a fit person yet! I just have one complaint. There's a hell of a lot of naked ladies walking around in the locker room. And I don't like it.

I understand that there's going to be some exposure while you change, but is it really necessary to blow-dry your hair naked? To put your foot up on a bench and apply lotion sans underpants? To exit the shower with the towel wrapped around your head? To apply your makeup au naturel in front of the mirror so that I can see two of you? I'm no prude, believe me, but I really don't need to see that much nudity on a daily basis. I don't want to see gross bodies because, well, they're gross, and I don't want to see great bodies because they just make me feel like my body is gross. Remember that Seinfeld where Jerry explained the difference between good naked and bad naked? Lotsa BAD naked in that locker room. Squatting, crouching, leaning to the side...gross! No need for that. Sorry for the gratuitous use of italics here, but I think that this topic really warrants it.

PS. I simply can't get enough of Canadian Idol. I am absolutely addicted. The singers are all so great this year...better than the embarrassing effort of last year's show. I'd like to thank the adorable Jacob Hoggard for making me feel dirty, having a crush on a 20-year old and all. But he's so cute! Don't tell, but I voted.

all by myself.

So yesterday morning I got up late and was rushing out the door when I discovered that my precious kitty had pissed all over one of my living room chairs. Joy! I didn't have time to clean it up, so I grabbed the cushion (the unfortunate pee destination) and threw it in my tub, shutting the bathroom door tightly behind me. Sounds gross, but I really had no other choice.

I got home from work that night having to pee pretty badly after my long subway ride, and discovered that (Joy! Joy!) my bathroom door wouldn't open. Like, it was shut tiiiiight. I thought that perhaps it was just swollen from the heat (the door doesn't really close tightly as it is...yeah, I live in a really swank apartment), so I spent the better part of 20 minutes repeatedly throwing my body against it. The Human Battering Ram gave up eventually, and was forced to run downstairs to the laundry room to relieve her aching bladder. It was at this point that I got rather pissed. I believe that many, many expletives were used. To make a long story short, I had to call my building's emergency maintenance line -- the on-call guy came in and had to CHISEL MY DOORKNOB OFF. Nice way to spend an evening. As he was leaving, the maintenance man asked me if I ever shut the door completely. I said no...it was too hard to shut it, to which he responded: "Good thing...you would have definitely been trapped in there...that's one faulty doorknob."

Which got me thinking.

What would have happened if I HAD gotten locked in there? I live alone. No one would find me until the stench of my corpse alerted the neighbors. I mean, at least there's a tap in there, but woman cannot live on water alone. Perhaps I could eat my oatmeal scrub. *Sigh* Yet another reason why I need to find myself a husband.

ball of confusion.

...and for some reason, my last post displays last Wednesday's date...how on earth did THAT happen? I don't even know how to change it. Guess Typepad's trying to teach me a lesson about posting regularly.