I am the master of productivity

Yeah. Right.
Had the laziest Christmas holiday time. Evah. It was beautiful. Seems the laziness is still hanging around in bits and pieces.

Managed to motivate my lazy ass outta bed and off to the gym. Too bad it made me totally late for work. But eh, who cares.

Then I rolled into the office (breaking the dress code once again) and sat around for a bit, created a few pretty reports and then got down to the important business of slacking.

In the time I've been here (somewheres around 9.40) I've done the following:

* read a bunch of blogs
*surfed the net for information on laser hair removal (don't ask...it's not for me)
*made a pretty report (actually work related!)
*wandered around the department a few times
*ate waaaaaaay too much chocolate
*sent an email to HR basically admitting that I'm a fucking slacker and could I please get another extension on something that was due well over a week ago?
*had my sniveling email ignored by HR
*cursed HR to burn in hell
*dissed our marketing team at least 20 times
*wished I could be a marketing goon. Cause really, where else could you come up with an idea that negatively impacts over 100 employees but looks great on paper and at the end of the project you get a bonus cause hey, you moved a million new policies?

Hope y'all had a great Christmas/Hanukah/Kwaanza/Booze fest.
I think I'm gonna go for another wander round the building.
Damn, I love this time of year!

I'm dreaming of a rainy Christmas

Awww yeah. I could happily sleep through Christmas (put Christ back in Christmas!) this year. I'm a tired monkey. A veddy tired monkey. Shit.

Plus the weather bites my ass. It's raining. Hardcore. Nothing says Christmas like rain. *sigh* And I'm not even a big fan of Christmas and I'm all bummed out at the craptastic weather.

All the visiting and running around began last week. Sleep is scheduled for the new year. At least that's what I'm hoping. Trying not to think of new years and what my hipster plans should be. Dang.

Still doing a whack of tests & appointments. Still not loving a minute of it. No siree. I'll be glad when (if) it's all over.

Excitement of the week? I bought an eye patch for my wonky left eye. I said "arrrgh" a lot and just about peed myself laughing. Yes, it's come down to eye patches to keep me amused. Heh. It's a rocking eye patch. You'd all love it. For real.

Sleep deprivation makes me zen

Steven Segal has got nothing on me.

I was chatting with a friend about making life decisions and I, having not slept properly in almost two months became one zen motherfucker. She was questioning a bunch of things and I simply said "be the answer". Kinda cool, but at the same time it made me realise something....I HAVE to get a few decent nights of sleep. Soon. Cause if it doesn't happen in the near future, I could start spouting some really messed up "zen" like things.
Imagine, I'll be at the photocopier going on about how the fluttering of a butterfly's wings could set off the toner of life or how the stapler is like the alligator of the office world, docile yet crazy dangerous. Geezus.

Does anyone have any suggestions on how to get a good night's sleep? No mention of sleeping pills...they only put me into a horrible dead sleep that leaves me feeling insane the next day. Make it a creative suggestion, I could use something nifty sounding.

S'all about the Christmas cheer

Yeah. It's all good these days. Spent the weekend with the gal and learned what it feels like to be stinkin' happy. I don't think it gets any better than this! I even managed to finish the bulk of my Christmas shopping. Now the wrapping. Dear lord, the wrapping. I doubt I'll ever see the end of it. *sigh* If I could get away with it, I'd just hand the gifts off, all "wrapped" in plastic bags. Heh.

Went to see my doctor today (yes, the appointments have started again). Things are pretty much the same. Doing lots of blood work next week and more follow up visits. I told my manager what was going on (finally). He actually surprised me and asked how I was holding up. Dude, I almost cried I was so caught off guard.

I'm a wee bit distracted these days, but I'm happy. Very happy. The throat, well, I could do without it, but hey...my friends are coming home for the holidays, I'm reconnecting with people I haven't spoken to in forever and I've got the love of a good woman. I'd say that is what makes the holidays special.

Things I have discovered and/or learned this week

*Offering Christmas Cheer in the form of a punch to the throat gets people to leave you alone

*reading thyroid newsletters/findings/studies out loud is the fuckin' funniest thing you could ever do with a loved one. If you can pronounce "Hypoparathryoidism" in one shot, I will bow at your feet. If you can define it, I'll clean your house for a weekend.

*I can't quit Weasel Central until March 2004 and that makes me wanna cry

*upper management is good for um, I'll get back to you on that one

*I've got a great group of friends who rock your face off

*my gal rocks the mofo casbah. Hardcore.

*decaf tea sucks ass. Really.

*cutting down on my alcohol intake isn't too bad. nor is increasing the amount of time I spend in the gym.

Ah, Monday, How I hate thee...

Well, only kinda. It's not that bad.
I'm trying to get used to the burning throat sensation. I'm not succeeding amazingly, but it's better than nothing.

Weasel Central is being the usual. So that's nothing new. And my revenge today? I look like I just rolled outta bed. It's great. I couldn't even be bothered to tuck in my shirt. One better, I forgot my belt. I'm better than a homeless guy on too much hooch. Yee haw. Boobies. Uh, I have no idea where that came from (actually, I do...Zoe, that was so for you).

I thought one of my friends was trying to avoid me after I called her with my cruddo news. The gal told me to talk to her and work it out. So I did. Turns out that I'm just a tad bit sensitive this week. Let's hear it for hormones!!! Guh. I like feeling like an emotional water buffalo. Makes me feel sexxxy.

I have to finish my Christmas shopping this week. Must. Finish. Can't go on anymore. The crowds. The music. The sales people. It's really too much for me. I'll be happy when we're done with all this "Christmas Cheer". Especially since I've decided that my version of Christmas Cheer will be a well placed punch to the throat for those who tick me off. Better than a fruit cake anyday, doncha think?

Ohmigawd. It's official, this entire week bit my ass. Hard. Well, except for the two month thing, that was cool.

This whole being tested by the universe for a whole year has got to fucking stop. Really. I'm at wits end. I can barely make it through a day without wanting to crawl under my Weasel Central issued desk and cry myself to sleep. And that's a lot, cause I don't think the cleaners have really done their job around here in a long time. Dude, there's a six month old Cheerio under my desk.

The gal has been absolutely amazing to me through the week of hell. Though today she's feeling hormonal and rather rough. So I've been trying to be her own little cheerleader (minus the skimpy outfit, I'm afraid). Lotsa hugs and stuff, y'know.

Yesterday I went to the specialist with the gal (yes, she's that amazing). Yesterday I had a freak out in the car. And in the office. And on the drive home. And well, you get the picture. Kids, I'm not liking the way things are looking. Don't worry, I'll be okily dokily at the end of it all, I'm just overwhelmed by all the information I got yesterday. It's never a good thing when the specialist says she's a wee bit concerned with existing test results. Looks like my role as human pin cushion is far from over. I've got a biopsy scheduled for the new year, along with another ultrasound, and of course, oodles of bloodwork. Yay!

So here's the Coles notes version (if I know you very well (you know who you are) you'll get the whole story in person or over the phone or by email if you so desire) of what's doing: the lump in my throat is gettin' bigger. No one's happy with that kind of progress.
Thank you.

Right. I'm off to sit and stare blankly at my screen and wonder why I bothered coming into work again.

Remember kids, give your loved ones lotsa hugs and kissies. And not just cause you want them to buy you a PlayStation 2 (though it wouldn't hurt).

Wow. Yesterday's post was cracked out. Way not to give the back story, Ren. Whooo.

Long story short, my AVP tried to rip me a new asshole for being honest. I told her that personally, I was not happy with a decision that had been made, but that professionally, I would stand behind it. Yes, kids, it went downhill from there. But that's okay. I just kept repeating my line and she got angrier and angrier until I finally just said, "Cool. Thanks anyways" and walked out. And then I came back to my desk and sent off a million resumes, called my mum, said the word "fuck" a lot (sorry, mum) and tried not to kill.

But in better news....I'm now at two months with the gal. Yee haw!

Oh dear lord.

Weasel Central is gonna be the death of me. Once again my AVP pats me on the head, tells me I'm "too protective" of my staff and sends me on my way.

I don't think I'm going to last until Christmas here.

Forgot one other thing:

A BIG huge congrats to Zoe and Jef for getting engaged on Friday!!! You kids rock the motherfucking Casbah!

Je suis une bad ass

I spent the weekend with the gal. That includes yesterday. The day she had off as a vacation day. The day I had off as a sick day. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I played hooky. Well, only partially. I was kinda sick (see multiple entries on my beloved thyroid & all those blood tests). Just like the pope is kinda shaky. You know it.

And now I'm at Weasel Central trying to figure out why I'm here, cause honestly, I could use another day of sleep. Cause that's right, I don't feel 100%.

Glad I came in today. Took me 50 minutes to do a 25 minute drive. Just over an hour to eat a McDonald's apple pie (keep it healthy baby) and over 2 hours to get through yesterday's emails. And the mail room keeps opening my "personal and confidential" mail. Bastards.

Off to a meeting I go. Once again, I know you envy me.

I have the crunchiest of headaches. Damn this rainy weather. I've been hunting for the perfect spoon so I could well, spoon my eye outta my skull.

Dammit. I should go home, but I'm medicated (to get rid of the drum routine that's currently going on in my head) and I think driving would be a challenge. So yes, in other words, I'm trapped in the office. Re-reading that, I realise that's one of those scary lines. Y'know, along the lines of something out of Towering Inferno. Yes. THAT scary.

Heh. I'm gonna go and put my head down on my desk and see if the minions will leave me the fuck alone.

But before I go, something to ponder: Why is it that when you obviously have a veddy bad headache, everyone must SCREAM at you? The fuck? I have a headache, not sudden deafness! Keep it down, fucknut.

So here I am, sitting in front of my computer of doom, ignoring the washing machine trying to think of something deep/meaningful/witty to say, and all I keep thinking over and over in my pea brain is "Celine Dion is the anti christ".

Now I know, I know, she's Canadian and so am I, which means I totally have to love her, but that's where you're wrong. Dude, the bitch lives in Vegas. She ain't ours anymore. I can hate her with the venom usually reserved for um, yeah, stuff. Stuff like my job. Which incidentally reminds me that I got a KICK ass review. Y'know those ones that are all "if it wasn't for Ren the building would have burned down years ago". Yeah, it was that good. Too bad I still desperately want out of weasel central.

The experience is great...think about it, 28 years old and I'm management! Buah ha ha. But honestly? I'm tired of this crap. I'm tired of pasting on a fat arsed smile and acting like I love working in the 'hood. I don't love it. In the least. I don't love doing mad overtime while the other management goons cut out at exactly 4.00. I don't love apologizing on behalf of the company for marketing's latest hairbrained scheme. I'm getting to the point where I'm starting to agree with the angry callers and that's not good.

Methinks I need a wee bit of time off soon.

Oh. Since I don't seem to be following a linear thought pattern, more updates and random thoughts:

*I got added to Mizz Erin's links section. Coolio.

*I have a specialist appointment next week to check out my wonky thyroid. Yes. More fun. Rumour has it that this time I'll get a needle in my motherfucking throat! You so wish you were me.

*I'm still crazy about the gal. And she's still crazy about me.

*Though she still freaks out at the extreme happiness of the whole scenario. Some days I'm right behind her on that one.

*I've decided that I have no use for Christmas. I'm not a Scrooge, I just realised that I spend lots of time with family and loved ones, so one designated hang out day kinda seems stupid to me. And expensive. Damn expensive.

Okay. I gotta go and deal with my curtains.

Quickly, cause I'm supposed to be in bed by now:

My annual reviews are fuckin' done!

Had a pretty chilled out party last night (Mary Ann, Kirk & Brain, you were ALL missed). I think it was a success. Actually, scratch that, I know it was a success. Yee haw!

Things with the gal couldn't get any better. Happier than a pig in shit. Actually, quick aside, what the FUCK kinda line is that? Are pigs really happy rolling around in shit? C'mon, that can't be true. Hrm. Anyways. I'm happy. She's happy. There you have it.

I still hate my job. But hey, such is life, I suppose.

So now that the reviews are pretty much done (though I'm still waiting to get reviewed myself), life is almost back to normal. Which means more mindless postings for you guys. Yay!

Okay. I sleep now. Post more while on the corporate dollar. Here's to stickin' it to the man.

Right. Last post for the week. Why you may ask? Simple, I says. I'm in the midst of employee reviews. That and I haven't really started them and I'm supposed to start meeting with the minions on Wednesday. Yeah. I've got a lot of shit to get through in like a day and a half. Fuckin' A, rock star.

But before I disappear into the bowels of Weasel Central, I will leave you with this:

The Reader's Digest version of my life. By Ren.
* let's not discuss how much I currently "love" my job. Let's just say I'd rather be an altar boy at a priest convention, okay?

*the relationship thing is doing very well. We had a really intense conversation about a major fuck up (I didn't do it for once) and gawd fuckin' damn if it didn't bring us closer together. Yay us.

*hospital tests are not fun. Even if they involve radioactive pills (I shit you not).

*Yes, my health is that great that I get to ingest radioactive pills.

*I'm getting over a cold and I sound like a phone sex operator. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

*I can't wait until my reviews are over and done with and I can return to surfing the net for a new job.

*I'm thisclose to admitting that I'm practically in love. And I'm terrified at that thought.

So there you have it, blog land.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and have nightmares about Year End Reviews.

And then I pretended I was a grown up

Nothing like a good scare to make you rethink things. I was just reading Shmoopie's newest entry and it got me thinking, dude, I'm totally growing up!

Well, not entirely grown up, mind you. I'm still somewhat childlike (see: overuse of the word "dude"), but something's changing. And it's not just my voice. I'm starting to think about the future and things I really want to do for myself and the people in my life around me. I think some of that is because I now have someone who really cares for me in my life, but honestly? That can't be the only reason. There's gotta be something more.

I want to go back to school in the Spring. Take photos. Maybe even sell those photos. Heck, I know I'm a good photographer. I just wanna be better. It's something that makes me really happy. It never used to. It's like it changed overnight. One day taking photos was a chore, now it's a joy. Granted, I keep forgetting to take my camera with me everywhere, or I'll forget to take the film in to get it developed, but I still love it.

Every morning I now spend more time with the cats. No more rushing around to get into an office where no one really cares that you've shown up HOURS earlier than other people to get work done. Sure I stay too late, but heck, I'm not killing myself to finish everything in one day.

When I'm with the gal, I admire her gray hairs and her laugh lines. I always tell her that they're the best parts of her, cause they make me think she's lived through both the good and the bad. I want my own laugh lines and stray gray hairs. She thinks I'm crazy for it, but the old me never would have noticed those things cause I was always moving too fast.

I take the time to hold my grandmother's hand. And I make sure to split that decadent peanut butter cookie with her. I listen to her go on about the changing colours of the leaves and how she loves the red leaves, but only on the little trees because it looks like they're on fire. I never used to listen to that stuff. I can't even tell you if she used to tell me that. But I know she says it now.

I hug my friends like I might never see them again. Sometimes I even give them messy kisses. Like the one's you used to get from your friend's little sister.

I've learned to enjoy the here and now and not to dwell on what MIGHT happen down the line. Nothing worse than speculation. I know it's such an overused line, but really, go out there and live life to the fullest. Make the changes you always said you would, but never got around to doing cause you were too busy. One should never have any regrets in life. So far I have none. Yee haw.

I need a few things ASAP:

- a new job
- to mail that fuckin' CD out to the fabulous Cati before she disowns my lazy ass (walked in and out of the post office with it. TWICE)
- more tattoos
- sleep
- more time with the gal
- an entourage (just cause it would be so effin' gangsta like, and well, I'm becoming more of a square every day, yo)
- a personal chef (preferably one of the Iron Chefs)

Yeah. That's a good start.

Dear Universe,

Thank you for letting me end up with a very caring gal who has her shit together. However, saddling me with a medical scare is not the right way to pull us closer together. Sure, blood tests are mondo fun. Mysterious thyroid cysts are not. Please cease and desist. But leave me the gal. She's great. The rest sucks ass.

Thanks,
Ren

Today's Question

Why is love so effin' scary?

Suddenly that made me think of a line from a Rufus Wainwright song: Is it love or is it heartburn?

Hmmm. Funny, that.

My last night. By Ren

I left the office almost 20 minutes after that post. By the time I left, I had a "terminator" eye (y'know, all crazy red and scary looking). Managed to get home in one piece. Went and fed my friend's cats and wandered to the LCBO. There, I spoke waaaaay too loudly on my cellie of doom ("Scottie don't" was the favoured quote) picked up some Heineken and had this little sketchy dude stand a wee bit too close to me at the checkout counter.

Got home. Drank beer. Had hot dogs (what WAS I thinking?!?!?!). Passed out on the sofa for a few hours. Chatted with the gal. Dragged my ass upstairs to my room. Attempted to check my email. Realised that my new Terminator eye was acting up. Gave up and went to sleep.

Y'all fucking wish you were me.

In less than an hour, I will have been in this stinkin' office for 12 hours.

I am now going home.

Not because I am done with my mountain of work (agggggghhhh, employee reviews!!!), but because my right eye burns like a motherfucker on fire and it'll mess with my rushing home to do nothing but watch CSI and poke the cats.

Can't have that now, can we?
Hell nah.

Tonight's a Heineken night. Fuck the gym.

The universe is a tricky beeyatch

Right. So that phone call the other day from the recruiter folks? Yeah.
It was a different position they were calling about for a different company. Job sounds PERFECT. One of those jobs where I'd have like a million minions (mmmm, minions), I'd learn lots and maybe even have a good time.

One snag.

The mofo job is in PETERBOROUGH. For those who do not know where
Peterborough is (you lucky sods, you). Take your favourite little red neck town and drop it in the middle of nowhere. Now try and drive to it. Yeah.

I live downtown and on a good day that would be an hour and a half drive out to the middle of nowhere. Now factor in snow, the occassional suicidal animal (yay roadkill!) and the possibility of sleeping in once in awhile. Yup. That just turned into a three hour drive. Don't think so.

Garf.

In other news....the gal mentioned last night that we've just hit one month. I even got a "happy anniversary" song out of the whole thing. Yes, we are that effin' sad. Lovin' it.

Check it out:

Shmoopie threatens the Universe and suddenly, I get a call from a job that I desperately wanted (but didn't get the first time round). Aww yeah. Looks like I've got another kick at it! Fuckin' A!

Shmoops, could you possibly get the Universe to buy me a new ride?

Just wonderin'.

Oh yeah. I've started applying for jobs in HUGE numbers again. Still horribly desperate to get out of Weasel Central. Especially since I'm dating part of the management team. We get NOTHING done with all the stupid arsed flirting and whatnot that we do all frickin' day long. Yes, I love it. But really, I need something new. Something that won't make me as twitchy as this current job.

So everyone cross your effin' fingers and hope I find a shiny new job so I can stop whining about how much I detest Weasel Central, mmmmmkay?

Oh. And I avoided the gym today like the plague. Yay me. Pass that donut. And that pint of Heineken.
Fuckin' A rock star.

How I know today is going to suck my ass

My Gram called in tears. Couldn't even finish a sentence. Mum took the phone. She started crying.
Yup. It's over.

The family cat who's been around for 19 frickin' years is being put down this morning.

Goodbye Cindy. 22 years is a pretty good length of time for a cat. Especially if you had to spend 10 of those livin' with me.

I fuckin' hate Mondays.

[update: turns out that Cindy actually passed away on her own at the vet's. Looks like she hung around at home until everyone could say their goodbyes. *sigh*]

Updates A-Go-Go

Took my gram to the consulate office. Five full minutes of excitement, let me tell you. That's right. In and out like nobody's business. The lady behind the plexiglass probably said like three words to us. No complaints. Kick ass.

Had yet another intense conversation with the gal. Before y'all freak out, it's s'all good between us. The only downside is she's a big thinker and has managed to stress herself out a few (thousand) times. But hey, that's what new relationships are about. Especially when you're dealing with me. We're having a good time. And we're both fuckin' happy.

This will be an interesting relationship, so sayeth me. I'm crazy about this gal, y'know. And yes, I'm terrified. Fuck off.

Still looking for a new job. I know you're surprised at that. Really you are. Actually, the job search is bumming me out. Badly. *sigh*

Tomorrow I go back to the gym. I swear I'll do it. Gotta start getting into the swing of things. Must. Start. Getting. Fit.

Yeah. That's it for today.
Oh. One more thing. Cati, your CD will be in the mail as of tomorrow. Yay!

Taking a page from Shmoopie...I'm taking my grandmother to the pension office on Friday. I cannot wait. I'm so excited I could puke. And why am I taking her there? That's right, so she can do her cute, shaky left handed signature. Once that's done, we'll get the usual blank look from the clerk and that will be our sign to go the fuck home.

Pray for my stupid soul.
*sigh*

This one's for Kirk

if you love her (would you buy her a gun?)

I see her walking home
I see her casting shadows on the street
A car pulls up behind her
Rolls down the window, he starts to speak

And there's a target on her
and there's a bullet with her number
and she's an unarmed soldier now
but not for long
'cause it's a war and if you care, if you love her, buy her a gun
'cause it's a war
and she's a soldier, if you care, if you love her, buy her a gun

I see her walking home
I see him rolling softly at her heels
Headlights silhouette her
His heart beats faster as he grips the wheel
She looks for lighted doorways
He thinks that she could be the one
Laughing softly to himself
Could she make it if she runs?

And there's a target on her
and there's a bullet with her number
and she's an unarmed soldier
She's an unarmed soldier now
But not for long
'cause it's a war and if you care, if you love her, buy her a gun
'cause it's a war, and she's a soldier, If you care, if you love her, buy her a gun

If you love her, buy her a gun
Your girlfriend, your sister, your daughter, your mum
If you love her, buy her a gun
so she can blow some bastard's head off if he follows her home
Do you love her? Would you buy her a gun?
Do you love her? Would you buy her a gun?
Do you love her? Would you buy her a gun?
Do you love her? Would you buy her a gun?

Scary thought of the morning:

I'm fuckin' happy!
Yeah, it's been awhile since I've been school girl on fire giddy. I'm even being nice to the minions. That could be a sign of the upcoming apocalypse, y'know.

My hair is still fire engine red, I'm still thinking about embracing a healthy lifestyle & I see a trip to the gym in my near future. How crazy is that?!?!?!

The rowing season is winding down so I'm starting to gear up to do some major working out. The goal is to lose 5 more pounds so I can replace it all with muscle. Worked a few years ago, so we'll see if I can pull it off this year. Just gotta give up on the Heineken.

Come to think of it, maybe this working out thing is horribly overrated.

How you know you've got a keeper...you do some drunk dialing and you're greeted with "Baby, I thought you'd call later. It's only 10.30, you're a fucking pussy".

Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am officially smitten. Dammit.

That and I think my blog is possessed.
Shit keeps appearing that I know I didn't type/think/wish. Dammit. Perhaps it's time to change locales. Hrm. Too drunk to seriously consider that now.

Gonna go finish my cup of tea and chill out to some old Bowie tunes. Aww yeah.

Argh. I'm still reviewing documents.
My attention span is shorter than that of a school girl on fire.
Dammit.

Shmoopie, you didn't miss much with the snowing thing. Except for me freaking out about it.
And saying "fuck" a lot. In the office.
I'm so hard core.
I blame my hair.

A sign that the big guy isn't happy with the Jesus flick:
Dude.
Mel take the hint. Your freaking assistant director got hit TWICE!
But I still couldn't help but giggle at the whole thing. I am such a bad Catholic.
*sigh*

Today at Weasel Central I get to review documents.
Wow.
I get to do all the fun shit around here.

In other news: It just stopped SNOWING!

Dammit.

Best of Both Worlds

Hoo boy.
Weasel Central is still buzzing. Rumour has it that there are more layoffs around the corner. Some of us are nervous. Some of us are praying that we're next. Some of us are beyond caring.

The affair (for lack of a better word, once again) with part of W.C's management team is off and running like a freight train. We'll see what happens in the long run.

All I have do is remember to breathe.

[edited: yesh, I'm a big wussy and I had to get rid of the "girlfriend" reference. It was freaking me the fuck out.]

Weasel Central is in an uproar. Downsizing has run rampant through the building, and once again, fuckin' ignored me. But got all the good ones. *sigh*

There's a weird energy around here. Like no one believes that the worst of it all is over yet. They've done a two day "blitz" (for lack of a better word) and well, we're wondering if they'll extend it by a day or two. I'm not sure. A lot of people are being walked out of the building. It's crazy. Like cows to the slaughter is the image that keeps popping into my head.

I don't feel like being here. But that could very well be the Gravol haze that I'm just getting out of.

Man, I don't think I can do this job anymore.
I think the job search is going to go into overdrive.
I need to save what's left of my sanity.
And I need to do it fast.

Dish? You effin' wish

This whole Weasel Central sneaking around thing is great. Except we're already acting like giddy school girls around each other. And doing marathon phone calls in the evenings. Yes, it's official...We're lame.

Details? A marathon make out session on the sofa. I learned one thing from that...I am too freakin' old to be making out on my sofa! I feel like I'm 96 or something.

Yeah, so far so great.
Further details of my scandalous evening will not be posted. Cause really, that's all there is. But if you insist on more, email me. I can't be airing all of my dirty laundry on the phucking web, now can I?

In other news, I am now a flaming red head. Gotta love a hair dye that's called "Red Corvette". How sweet is that?!?!?!

I was going to post one of my usual David Lynch like posts (what is UP with that lately?!?!?), but I decided against it. Maybe cause I'm tired. Very tired. Why is it that when you get next to no sleep, your body insists on waking early? Like c'mon! I don't have anywhere to be for like 3 more hours! Guh.

So here I sit in my jammies, listening to Radiohead's Okay Computer, paying off my bills and ignoring the cats.
Sounds fun wow exciting, I know.

And yes, my Saturday evening was wonderfully scandalous. In fact, it was so scandalous I missed the endings of both Trading Spaces episodes. Now I'll never know if that ugly couple liked the purple room Edward designed! In fact, I don't think I even saw the finished result.

That's right kids, I'm not going to dish on my evening (at least not now, need coffee first). But I will say a great evening/almost morning was had by all.

Thank you and good morning.

TMJ sucks.
Working in a call centre with TMJ blows.
Working at Weasel Central with TMJ blows dead bears.

Thank you.

Right. Watch this spot on Sunday for the update on my scandalous Saturday. Well, that is if it ends up being scandalous. What if it's just a quiet evening spent watching videos? Do you want to hear about that? I somehow doubt you horndogs would care about that.

And Chris, I want to be able to quit Weasel Central. I don't want them to turf me. That would suck arse. Quitting is much more fun than being fired. At least that's what I've learned. Though I've never been fired. Hmmmm.

One more random thought: when Daryl Hannah eventually dies, will she actually decompose or will future societies find her PERFECTLY PRESERVED BODY?!?!?!?!?
Ick.

Random Thursday Bits

My TMJ is acting up (of course it's my own damn fault, I'm too stubborn to use the mouth piece thingy at night).

I vowed to cut down on my alcohol consumption come November. Somehow even I knew I was lying about that. Cause, really, what the fuck else is there to do when it gets cold out?

My cold went away! Shmoopie, I think it was a hyper excited reaction to the notion of seeing you after MONTHS of not hanging out with you. Fo' sho'.

I'm still scared of Daryl Hannah and her boy boobies. And her roller skates.

So I have a "date" this weekend with the Weasel Central employee. Should be interesting, to say the least. No details to follow on that one, unless it's a complete bust and I end up having to quit my job from the shame of it all. Then I'll gladly reveal all. Cause that's how caring I am. Hott damn.

Things I've learned today (after ingesting cold medication)

* when I get really stressed (especially after time away from Weasel Central), my body shuts down
* you don't have to see someone every day in order for them to be considered a really good friend (I love you Shmoopie!)
* I came down with a vicious cold in less than an hour.
* all the cold medication in my upstairs medicine cabinet is expired, leading me to think that this is the first cold of the year
* If I'm still sick by Saturday, I'll cry. Honestly.
* cats do not make very good squeeze toys
* Daryl Hannah is made up of at least 94% plastic (and 6% soft lighting)

I think it's time for a change.

New job.
New me.

Something's gotta give, kids.
Just gotta figure out what it is.

Nothing says "successful end to a good, relaxing day" like making out in front of my yuppie scum building with part of Weasel Central's management team.

Who knew?
Sure as hell not me.

6 months of harbouring a crush on me.

5 minutes revealing it.

4 hours before we started acting on it.

And that my friends, is a good Saturday.

All I'm gonna say is you gotta go and see Kill Bill. Two hours of Uma Thurman kicking ass. Nuff said.

This one's for Chris and Cati

And in case anyone was wondering about me, I am the biggest nerd.

More posts this weekend as part of my pennance.

I'm going out for a beer now.

Thank you.

This one's for Chris
Only cause I know she's itching for a new post.

All right. It's official: upper management thinks I'm really stupid. I'd go into details, but that would entail using Weasel Central speak. No one needs to hear that.

The easiest way to tell this story? It's like this, simple question, simple answer. Simple answer gets twisted by the minion who's giving it to someone else. Somehow this all gets back to the VP (who at the best of times makes it seem like she can't stomach me). She asks where the minion got the answer. All fingers point back to me. She automatically thinks I'm stupid. I'm then approached by my manager to "explain" a simple question. Question sounds familiar, I call manager on it, he explains that VP thinks I'm a moron. I suddenly think I need a new job.

Manager dude, you've been working next to me for YEARS.
Couldn't you just back me up instead of coming over and trying to be sly? Nope. That's not how things work here at Weasel Central. We must humiliate you. It's better than a bonus or a pat on the back.

Bad enough I work in the ghetto. But now the higher ups are wondering if I'm smart enough for this position. All this comes the day after I finally got a compliment out of them about what a good job I'm doing. That was the conversation where it slipped out (prior to the compliment) that they wouldn't post my current position (I'm filling in for my boss who's on sick leave) cause they were actually happy with me.

No wonder I fuckin' have ulcers and an impossible time sleeping.
*sigh*

Hey, this is gonna come as a surprise to y'all, but I'm BORED.
Something about this job. Hmmm, what could it be? Right. It's a soul sucking, fairly thankless, under paid position.
How could I forget that?

Other than that, it's all pretty good.
Well except for that fuckin' Arnie thing. That scares me more than the prospect of spending the rest of my life at Weasel Central. California, you shoulda gone for Gary Coleman.

Boy am I glad to be back at Weasel Central today. I am currently so bored I'm thinking about setting myself on fire. Just for something different, really.

I forgot to tell y'all about this crazy assed "single's party" I went to on Saturday. It was called Playing with Matches and it was as gaybo as it sounds. People paid $125 (but not me and my friend, we got FREE tickets!). Then it got stupid. The cougars were beyond drunk, the guys with the comb overs were going after the barely legals (girls, how did you manage the cover charge?) and I was horrified at the whole display. Guys milling about, too scared to talk to any of the ladies who were standing around looking single and desperate. Dude, if I dropped that kind of stupid cash, I'd be talking to EVERYONE. Mind you, I was kinda drunk by the end of the night, so I was talking to EVERYONE. Buah ha ha. We did the speed dating thing, and I got yelled at by this little psycho redhead guy for not having an ID number (uh, I've already explained, I didn't register for this and see that gal with the headset? Yeah? She pulled me in here to talk to you. So shut up. What? The 3 minutes is over? Dang.).

All I can say is thank gawd for free drink tickets. And power drinking on an empty stomach. That makes everything more fun.

More details to follow. Like, did I get picked by any of those crazy speed date guys? Hmmm. I wonder.

So I've been kinda quiet the last week. That's cause I've been spending most of my free time playing cards with my Gram. Oh, and watching Columbo and The Price is Right.
Wooo.

I've got a "sick" day (thank you formerly uncaring manager for suggesting it) today. I'm gonna chill out with my wee beasties, get kinda dressed (I think I'm gonna rock these pimpin' pj pants) and go see my Gram. And watch The Price is Right. I hate The Price is Right. I hate Bob Barker. But I love watching my Gram watch that drivel.

There you have it. The last few days of my life.

That and SquawkBox sucks my left tit. For real.

Welcome HaloScan. Well, until they piss me off and I switch to someone else.
Booyakka.

8 Hours of sleep over 2 days, 1 hour of Price is Right, 2 insane cats and 1 functioning Gram.

Right now that's my idea of heaven. Especially last night's Price is Right. The grand winner? A total frat boy who was a mouth breather. My Gram couldn't figure out why that shit was cracking me up. Actually, I'm not sure why I found it to be that funny. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation.

Tonight I'm gonna sleep like I've never slept before. Awww yeah. I figure it's safe to stay at my place tonight after spending last night with Gram. It's odd to sleep elsewhere. Mum made me take her bed last night and we confused the fuck out of my grandmother. Nice eh? The woman has a stroke and we decide to play musical bedrooms. Welcome to my family. We're mean even when we're trying to be nice!

I think I'm gonna wrestle with my cats when I get home.
Maybe this time they'll let me win.

Aside to Secret Agent Jo:

Yeah, so I poked the cat repeatedly.
I shoulda seen it coming.
At least my shots are up to date.
At least it didn't result in a cut.
Yay!

Oh. And in other news:
One of my cats just totally bit my nose.

Dammit.

Don't freak out, okay?

I picked up the phone today and those were my mum's first words to me. Needless to say, I freaked out. And then I tore off to the hospital. Yup. After a billion hours of tests/chilling out/getting snarky the doctor gave us the results...Gram had another mild stroke.

*sigh*

I never want to spend that many hours in a hospital ever again. I think my mum and gram were there for 12 and I was there for maybe 9. The sad thing is that my gram hates hospitals. She was cool for the first 10 hours, but you could tell by the last couple that she was convinced that we weren't going to take her home tonight. Actually, I was trying to push that she stay for the night for observation, but the terror in her eyes made me change my tune.
The doctor told us that she's pretty healthy (other than the stroke (!)) so that was good to hear. I'll be shuttling her to a few more appointments over the next few weeks, so I'm sure I'll be going on about that for a bit. I make no apologies for it. I'll also be watching that lady like a total hawk. Awww yeah.

Thanks to everyone who has dropped me a line of support, it's totally appreciated. Gram's pretty good. Pissed off that she had to spend an entirely good day in the hospital, but good. I love the fact that my gram is still full of piss n' vinegar.

Thank you universe for that much.

My Love Don't Cost A Thing

Dammit. I have that bloody song stuck in my head. Fark.
And yes, that's the most exciting thing I have to say for today.
Buah ha ha.

Last night I got to catch up with a friend of mine. She's back in town from Japan. Where it seems the majority of my friends are/have been. Odd. I keep thinking about it, but I'm not jonesing to head out there. Any hoodle, we played catch up, I went on about the insane dates I've gone on recently (next time I think internet dating sounds good, please maim me). All in all, a good time was had. Yay! I'm all for chilling out with my friends and making them laugh until they get the "dear lord I think I'm gonna pee" face.
Yes, I am truly evil.

In other news...I'm bored. Very bored. I can barely even make myself tackle all the crap on my desk. I'm surfing, I'm watching the Oscar WebCam (the fucking CUTEST dog on earth), I'm reading, I'm almost napping, I'm BORED.

Send excitement.

I'm having such a hard time keeping my eyes open.
It's getting funny. I feel like a little kid. My head is nodding.
I think I should just give in and put my head down on my desk and nap. Doubt anyone would notice. Well, at least until I started drooling and snoring. Awwww yeah.

On the good news front:
My Gram is feeling pretty darn good these days. Which means I can sleep a wee bit better. Of course I'm still worried, but hey, that's what I do.
The family's gonna sit down (all 3 of us) and we'll make some decisions about what needs to be done in the near future. This unfortunately involves me cancelling a trip to Vancouver next month. Though I've been killing to get away, I'm not really complaining. This woman raised me. It's the least I could do.
No questions asked.

Today I am the most sensitive person on earth.
Honest. I keep tearing up. It's getting sappy. And really annoying.

I've come to realise that the most important things around are your family and friends. Now I knew this before, but it always takes a scare or two (!) to make me remember that. How sad is that?

I'd become the epitome of yuppie scum. I drive my foreign car. I work in management. I own a loft. I drink Heiniken. I sometimes call my friends. I sometimes call my family.

With all the crazy life changing things that have gone on recently, I realised that things have got to change.

Those who know me are gonna hear from me a hell of a lot more. I love you fuckers. And I'm gonna tell you that. Over and over again until you finally get fed up and/or freaked out and end up having to change your phone number and possibly move or get a restraining order against me. But until that happens, consider this your warning.

I'm gonna stop waiting to hear from you. I'll call/email/send cards more often. I'll stop bitching about how my friends/family/cats are being lame (well, maybe not the cats). I'll give out more hugs and less dirty looks.

Welcome to the new, caring, mondo sensitive moi!
And yes, I still FUCKING hate my job, so none of the above applies to Weasel Central.

Dear Universe,

I have one more favour to ask of you:
Could you leave my Gram the fuck alone?
I'm nowhere near done enjoying her company.

smooches,
Ren

[Edited: I kept misting up everytime I read the P.S.]

Wake me when it's over

Funniest thing. I am so tired I can barely function. And I totally forgot what I was just gonna post. Ha. I'm a fookin' lame-o. Yay me!

I don't think I've been this tired in a long time. And it's not like I had a wild child weekend. Sure, I did some racing on Saturday (pic to follow). My crew came in second! I now have my first medal after 4 years of rowing! I feel super cool yet super lame all at the same time.
But at least I looked cute in my spandex (!) shorts.

To those keeping tabs...I got my results back from the doc on Friday....nothing out of the ordinary. Yet I still feel like shit. I am now blaming my job. My doc seems to think it's viral. Um, does anyone else think it a wee bit strange that I've been pseudo-ill for the last 4-5 weeks? My doc doesn't seem to be in that group. She's all like "yeah, if you're still not feeling well, come see me in a week". Okay. Whatever. I give up.

D'oh. It's my infamous Weasel Central VP. Must hide.

Things I hate (in no particular order):

* the Vice President of Weasel Central...learn my fucking name already! I've worked here for almost THREE FUCKING YEARS!!

* the Assistant Vice President of Weasel Central...either you ignore me or you be my best friend. Pick one. I'm getting tired of smiling at you.

* the weather

* my job

* news casters (and their hair)

Things I love (Again, in no particular order):

* Kirk and Mary-Ann (no explanation needed)

* my stinky cats

* my car (so sue me)

* all those cool cats who read my blog

* chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream

I lurve my tattoo artist.
Really I do.
And not just cause he's talented. And cuter than cute.

Went and got my crappy tattoo fixed up. Now it's gorgeous. I've spent half of my day just staring at my arm. No wonder management thinks I'm crazy and must be avoided at all costs. If only I'd thought up that shit years ago.

No other exciting things to report. At least that I can remember. Or care to remember.

Oh yeah. I'm waiting to hear from my doctor's on the results of my blood work. No, take your time, I've only been mysteriously ill for the last month. What's another day of waiting? Bah. Silly me for freaking out. It's perfectly normal to go for multiple blood tests over less than a two week period. Geeze, I'm such a hysterical female.

Ooops. I just ignored my assistance vice president. Again.
Dude, if I keep this up, I'll be relegated to cleaning up the shit. Oh, wait. I already do that. Buah ha ha.

Go and wish Cati a happy birthday, yo.
Go on. You know you wanna.
Besides, Weasel Central's got me where it counts. Gotta get some office krap done.
I'll write something wonderful later.
Now go wish Cati a happy birthday, dammit!

The motion of the Ocean...

...Is right here in my head. Why do I insist on rowing with choppy water? *urp* Damn this training. Everytime I think I'm okay, I move and the whole rocking thing starts up again. Dude, I've been off the water for a good 4 hours! When will the rocking stop?!?!?!! Oh I so want to cry. Or hurl. Or maybe both. Yes, this Weasel Central carpet looks super absorbent. Buah ha ha.

So it looks like I'm going back to school. Woo hoo! Aiiight, so it's only night school, but it's for photography (thank you Kirk a billion times for motivating me to do it! Who loves ya baby?). I think I'm going to enroll in the winter session. And then I'll be able to walk up to total hotties and be all "I'm a photography student, wanna pose nude for me?" Oh I can see it now. Sweet.

Go check out Dirty Fez. I just got a shout out. Yay me! Makes me feel all popular and shit. Aww yeah. And you know that my ego so needs the boost today.

Tomorrow I go for the "new" tattoo. Getting a shitty tattoo turned into a fabu tattoo. I'm veddy excited. Perhaps I'll even scan it and post it one day. Heh. Yeah, and maybe that'll be the day I become the next Pope. Don't hold your breath, I'm in lazy mode. S'all about the laziness baby. The same laziness that keeps me from rewiring my DVD player so I can FINALLY watch Mulholland Drive. *sigh*

Send cookies.
And beer.

Yup, yup, yup

What a blah kinda day. A definite Monday. The weather sucks, everyone's kinda glum and I'm scratching at the windows to be set free from Weasel Central. *sigh*

Though this just made me giggle my arse off: The Urban Dictionary

Uh huh. I'm being a cranky bear this afternoon, and it turns out that my staff didn't notice anything different about me. Nice. Methinks it's time for a vacation. Awww yeah. Must get outta dodge.

Grrrrrr.
mmmm, berries n' shit.

Another update:

Didn't get the jobs I got called for this week. But before everyone starts with the "awws" and whatnot, I've actually got another shot at one of the positions. Knowing this keeps me from going on the tear that I was threatening to go on.

The interview I had this morning was a bit of a waste. I was completely unqualified for the position. Like sales? What? If selling Girl Guide cookies when I was young counts, then I'm a sales genious. But other than that, nope. It was evident very early on that I wasn't going to be "the right match" for the job. But again, looking on the bright side, I now have another recruiter helping me to get out of Weasel Central hell.

Fingers crossed everybody!!

*sigh*
I love when my friends ring me up just to find out if I'm gonna do something for them and while on the phone with me, they have a million conversations with people AROUND them. For gawd's sake...if I'm that fucking boring, don't call me. And yes, I will water your plants/feed the dog/shoot the neighbour and possibly fuck your significant other while you're away. It's all part of being your lame assed friend.

And in other news:
I got another one of those 5 question thingys. This time from the wonderful (yet currently hermit-like) Kat of Dirty Fez. So without further ado, questions and answers!

1. Are you a cat person or a dog person?

Oh so a cat person. If not for the sheer fact that I hate people, love to sleep, and if I had my way, I'd shred the fucking curtains too.
Though I must admit I really WANT a dog. Deep apologies to my 3 kitties.

2. If you had a choice between being incredibly happy and relatively stupid, or
incredibly intelligent and relatively unhappy, which would you choose?

I think I'm already leading the second choice, y'know.

3. Describe the most humiliating moment you have ever experienced.

Dude. There are soooo many. The last great one? Getting scolded at Heathrow Airport by the Air Canada counter guy in England. Why? Cause I TOTALLY missed my flight back to Canada and I had the lamest excuse (uh, there was a delay on the tube?). It wouldn't have been too bad, but then he had to announce loudly "where have you BEEN? I'm not holding that flight for you, y'know. It's totally leaving without you". Though he didn't charge me for the change in flight, he managed to make me feel like a total arsehole by circling the final bording time. Twice. *sigh*

Other humiliating moments are all long, twisted dating stories. Just thinking about them are making me want to hide under the bed. Forever.

4. If you could talk to any historical figure for two hours with no
interruptions, who would it be?

Virginia Woolf. And I'd tell her what a total skeez Nicole Kidman is. Especially when it came to 'being' Virginia Woolf. Guh, I still can't believe she won an Oscar for that! She didn't even LOOK like her! sorry, I'm still really bitter about that.

5. Which 5 songs always evoke an emotional response in you? Happy, sad, angry,
any emotional reaction. Why?

Oh gawd. Erm, yeah.
1. Other side - David Gray. It's such a beautiful song, about something gone horribly wrong. There's this great line about "love is a raven when it's gone" and it always gets me. I love it, even though it depresses me just a little.

2. Anything by 112. Pure anger. 112 was one of my exes' favourite groups. Nuff said.

3. Welcome to the Jungle - Guns n' Roses. The best stress reliever song. Makes me giggly and happy. Heh.

4. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode. I always sing it as "personal hey-seuss". I do a little dance too, regardless of where I am when that song comes on. Cracks me right up. Good times all round.

5. Anything by Oscar Peterson. Makes me think of my Gram, so it's a total joyous thing. And yes, my Gram is still alive and kicking. (side note: as a young gal, she dated one of the members of Oscar's band! Her stories are fantastic!)

And there you have it! My 5 answers. Ta da.
If there's anyone out there still lookin' to be interviewed, lemmie know.

I have an interview this FRIDAY!
I am so happy I could puke.
For real.

Other than that, life is the same old. I wake up much too early (I remember going YEARS without ever seeing a sun rise...I miss those days with a passion), I have discovered that coffee and I are on the outs and if I had more free time I know that I'd spend it sleeping like the dirty mofo I really am.

Oh. And I'm craving a chocolate chip cookie the way R.Kelly craves the young'uns.

One more thing

Dear Universe,

Since you've done something wicked amazing for me, can I ask you to take care of a few of my friends who desperately need some watching over?

I'm trying my darndest to make things easier for them, but I don't think I can do it on my own.

Thanks,
Ren

P.S do you think my last post about you guys was a bit on the "nanny nanny boo boo" side?

Uh huh.
So it's like this...
the universe fuckin' came through!

To those of you who doubted the awesome powers of the universe (too many of you to name individually)...you're fuckin' dumb wads (and don't bother posting a comment about how this is just a fluke, or I will hunt you down and cut you).
Yup. Just when I thought I was gonna have to pose as a "college student" and get a job stripping, the universe presents me with a great surprise.

Two, count 'em two messages about jobs. Dudes, I almost peed myself I was so happy.

I've left return messages and now I'm just waiting to see what happens now.
Wooo.

Oh, and thanks to those kick ass friends o' mine who secretly knew that something good would come of my grovelling to the powers that be (yes, I am a bad Catholic...I didn't ask Gawd, but I figure I was asking for something selfish so why not piss off the big guy fully and go elsewhere?).

I have more to report, but I'm freakin' exhausted. Been up since the crack of ass, and frankly, my bed looks wicked comfy from this angle.

Dear Universe,

I've tried to be a caring (who am I kidding?!?!?!), fun filled, jovial kinda gal, but it's getting harder.

Why?
Because I am trapped in Weasel Central. If you just let me get my dream job STAT (thank you TLC's "life and death in the ER"), I promise to return to my beer-swilling, swearing worse than a trucker (in a good way) party gal self.

Until I get the job of my dreams I will drag my sorry ass home, pass out in front of the telly and cry to myself everytime I think of returning to this sorry excuse for a job.

Thanks!
Ren

Open letter to The Nasty Ass Weasel Central Employee Who Used The Loo Before Me

Dear NAWCEWUTLBM,

You are sick. Very sick. Cause dude, if you're gonna fuckin' pee on the seat, at the very least aim for even coverage. No one enjoys walking into the one free stall only to find out that someone's done a Jackson Pollock and mucked up the seat. And dude? No wadded up toilet paper bits, either. That shit ain't pretty.

Big fuck you to you.

Kissies,
Ren

Feeling old guy tired. Wish I could be an old guy. Cause then I'd be out cold in my chair, snoring my ass off. But no. Instead I'm pretending to be a management goon who "cares". I think this monkey needs nap time.

In other news...I need to start working out again. I learned this morning that my stamina ain't what it used to be (minds outta the gutter). Doing a full on race-like row and I thought that the last five minutes were gonna KILL me. Never used to be like that. D'oh.

Right. After having said all that, I'm gonna fuck off to the staff cafeteria and get me a chocolate bar. Booyaka!

Here I sit at my messy, fire hazard desk shaking from a venti Americano and eating dry Vector cereal out of a baggy and all I keep hearing in my head is: "I have just hit a new (corporate) low"

I've gotta stop buying StarPhuck's coffee. It's going to kill me. Dude, I'm TWITCHING like a spastic on the dance floor. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you. And I'm out of cereal. *sigh*

That's it. Off to the Maul I go. I need to buy something. Yay Capitalism.

Oh, and go rent Laurel Canyon. It made me realise that I need a British rock star boyfriend. Right this minute. Awww yeah. If he's not available, I'll take a Frances McDormand type. RAWR.

I was just thisclose to applying for a job in Scotland.
Spot the monkey who's tired of being in this office. Yup. That would be me.
Yay!

Aiight. I promise not to kvetch about my job this week. Cause really, I should just be glad that I have a job that is paying me to let them break my spirits, crush my morale and treat me worse that a mangy mutt.

I love working at Weasel Central! (insert hysterical sobbing here)
That does it, I'm sending my resume to Scotland.
Aye laddy!

All right. Having a slacker moment at work.

5 questions. Anyone can answer 'em (though S.A.J, they're kinda for you)...

1. You have to kiss one of the following (with full tongue and nasty assed spittle trail) for at least 2 minutes (not 5 seconds you MTV bastards): Madonna, Britney or Christina. And why?

2. Reveal the gory details of the worst date you've been on. (So I stole the question from Cati so sue me).

3. If you could be a Super Friend, which one would you be?

4. Rick James or MC Hammer?

5. Thomas Dolby has just set your house on fire. Which 2 things do you grab? And before beating Mr. Dolby to a bloody pulp, do you sing him a few lines of "Blinded me with science"?

There you have it. The most lame ass questions I could come up with. I feel shame.

I was going to add the following question, but in the name of taste, decided against it:
Dirty Sanchez or Donkey Punch?
Let's call that one 4a. (I think Rick James would pick Donkey Punch).

Damn, I gotta get me some fresh air. STAT!

Aiiiiiiiiiiight. Y'know how this works...5 questions from Mizz Cati herself:

Do you call policeman "Mounties" 'round your parts?
No, I call them "donut munching pig dawgs". Especially after I get my second speeding ticket of the week. Some days I call 'em "officer". But that's rare.

Tell me about your worst date ever.
I've actually got 2.

Bad date #1 (which is really 2 in 1) - I go on this blind date with this woman, and 30 minutes in she's talking baby names. She's also got me drinking beer before noon (a no-no in my books). Any hoodle, to make a long painful story short...I realise she's not the one for me. I go on another blind date (less than a week later) with some other lady & I'm telling her the story of the first gal, and lo and behold! It turns out that they actually dated each other for YEARS. I ran from both. Screaming.

Bad date #2 - another blind date (just say HELL NO to blind dates). We decide to meet up at 5.30 downtown (10 minutes from her work place, 45 minutes from mine). I hustle to get to the pub and of course, rush hour traffic prevails. I get to said locale 20 minutes late, just as the blind date is walking PAST me. I flag her down to be greeted with "you were LATE. I got tired of waiting". Of course it went downhill from there. I drank like a fish, said little (though I told some great drunk stories), ate a shitty salad and managed to end the date early. Being poilite, I offered the gal a drive home/out/wherever I wasn't. She turns to me and says "that's all right, I've got a coffee date with a friend". WTF? Needless to say, we never spoke again after that. I ran off to my local pub, drank tons and awoke hours later on the bathroom floor with no idea of how I got there.

Would you have sex with Steve Burns if he promised to sing you the "You can do anything that you wanna do" song to you right before it went down?

Yes.
I'd even wear a bear suit.

Seriously - what would Jesus do?
First he'd round up all the Super Friends. Then they'd go and find all those dumb ass homophobics who keep using the bible as their excuse to alienate gays and Jesus and the Super Friends would fire 'em off to Mars. Either that or he'd get a pedicure. And a Brazillian.
I'm so going to Hell for that, aren't I?

Dresses over jeans - hot or not?
On my crazy ass six foot tall frame? Not.
But I have a friend who can pull that shit off. So really, it's a maybe.

Ta da. My well thought out answers. Lemmie know if you want 5 lovingly crafted questions from me. I swear they'll fuck you up worse than pictures of Ben slipping Jen the tongue. Fo' sho'.

Further reasons I should keep my effin' mouth shut

So last week I'm sitting around with friends and we're talking about speeding tickets and the like. And in my cocky glory I announce "dude, I've been driving like a bat outta hell for 12 years and I have never been nabbed for speeding". If this were a movie, the music would cue up to tell you that I'm a total dumb ass and I'm about to get mine in the worst way possible.

Yes, folks. The universe was not pleased with my bragging ways. TWO speeding tickets in under a week! Hot damn!

Dear Universe,

I am soooooo sorry for taunting you and pushing my luck. But c'mon, a death, a few major illnesses (of friends and family) and now this? For the love of Luke, leave me alone already!

And if you leave me alone I promise to stop bugging my cat, Squee about her flabby tummy.
Honest.

Thanks,
Ren

This week proves why I need to quit my job RIGHT FUCKIN' NOW:

- came in on Monday with a fever and acting a little crazier than usual. Went to my manager and explained that "dude, either I go home or I die here". Got blank look from manager. Decided to elaborate, "I don't feel well. I gotta go". I got the "if you must" look in return. Fought urge to kill. Went home and watched trash tv with the cats.

- Tuesday, came in (even though I still felt like shit). Staff asks how I'm doing. They all baby me through the day. Manager says nothing. I tell him that a family member has died and I need to run outta the office at some point during this week for the funeral. Manager goes on about how much funerals bite and dear lord how lame his father's funeral was. And who serves sandwiches at the funeral home anyways? Try not to kill. Shuffle off to my desk.

- later send an email to give full details about when I have to leave the office for the funeral. No acknowledgement. Go to manager's office. Yup, he read the email. At this point, I have never been asked how I'm feeling/holding up/breathing. Shuffle back to desk and start surfing for a new job.

- Had to sneak to doctor on my lunch break. Turns out I probably have strep and should be in bed. Am not in bed. Am in office. Praying for new job. Or multi-millionaire to sweep in and take me away from all this hell.

- now trying to figure out why I work here. Still can't figure it out. Wondering if anyone would notice if I ran screaming from the building. I think not.

Good bye "Uncle" Bert.
Heaven just got the best earth has to offer.

Prozac will make it all better

My high school guidance councellor told me that.
Um, thanks?
But then again, this is the same woman who, when I told her I was trying to quit smoking (I was such a rebellious 18 year old) told me that I looked cool smoking, so why bother quitting?
Uh, yeah.

Right. So I'm feeling a little sorry for myself these days. I'm stressed out cause a)my job blows dead bears, b) my friends are going through crazy times and I'm a listener and supporter, dammit, c) my sleeping pattern is fucked up & d) I'm starting to stress about my gummy knee and crusty hip (a story best told over a lot of drinks).

Yay me.
Sorry, folks, Ren's not feeling like much fun right now.
I'm trying to get that point across to some of the "real life" people I know, but it's not working. Lookit, when you ask me "what's wrong" and I look at you all teary eyed and say "frankly I would like to take a 30 hour nap", don't think this is code for "I'm off to kill myself" and try to convince me that life is worth living. I really want to take a 30 hour nap. Dude, I'm tired and run down. And prone to crying fits. Really bad and awkward ones.

And no, I don't want a hug.
I want a big bed, Johnny Knoxville and a bottle of Nyquil.

RAWR.

I have innernet at the office! I have innernet at the office!
(why do I keep spelling "internet" that way? Send help)

Sadly, I do not have air conditioning in the office.
I am already sweating like a hooker on a date with a cop.
I am not comfortable in the least.

I could use a beer. That would keep me cool. So what if it's not even 10.15am?
I'm a hardcore corporate weasel type.
Fo' sho'.

4 things, by Ren:

1. Having no AC in an office that is usually the same temperature as Alaska (in the winter) sucks. I hate sweating. Though I do it very well, spank you veddy much.

2. Having no innernet access at work also sucks. Though my productivity technically increased from not being able to surf. Well, at least until the AC gave out. Then I became a snivelling mass of a woman who was too hot to even answer the phone.

3. Yes, that's me. No, you cannot have my autograph. Buah ha ha.

4. I am so sleep deprived I think I'm gonna die.

I spoke too soon. A few hours after my last post I lost the power again. But this time, I really enjoyed it. I rang up a good friend and went wandering around the city. Met up with other friends who were powerless. Cause this time, the power failure was in chunks. Want a hot meal? No worries. A 5 block walk and voila! Power. Very odd, but hey, at least it got me out of the house.

So I stayed power free until early evening on Saturday. It was great! Now don't get me wrong, I'm really all for lying around watching krapola tv from time to time. It's just nice to get a break and learn to entertain oneself in a different way.

In the end, there was no major looting (just a few frustrated kids smashing bus shelter windows), no crazy killing sprees (due to the power failure at least) and I walked more than I'd walked in months.
My only beef? What the fuck is up with the media having to name everything that happens?!?!?! BLACKOUT 2003! As effin' if. The captain obvious team strikes again!

Ah, the dark.

Yeah. Big ass power failure in Ontario & a whack of the States. Ah happiness.

Canada blames the Americans.
The Americans blame the Canadians.

Perhaps excessive use of power on both sides got us to this point? Hmmm, d'ya think? Just maybe? How come we've always got to blame someone? If that's the case, I'm gonna blame Nicole Kidman, cause that bitch burns my ass.

So the power is slowly being restored in areas, and what do I do? That's right. I hop on the innernet. I am such a fuckin' nerd. Yay me! But I'm being good about energy conservation: I've got the telly & the radio off, the a/c has been shut off, no lights on and I'm fighting the urge to do laundry (why I'm addicted to doing my laundry I'll never know).

Yeah. I'm gonna go and enjoy my day off now. Thank you Weasel Central for still being in the dark and having no working phones, so I don't have to drag my miserable ass out there (how? dunno. Subways ain't working and my car's in the shop).

And thank you citizens of Toronto for being totally kick ass and not looting and shit. And for going out of your way to give other people a helping hand.
Sometimes bad things bring out the best in people.

Is this a bad sign?

I was reaching for one of the doors in the office and noticed that the "PUSH" sign now reads "PUS".
What does that say about my office?

Hell just confirmed my reservation

One more thing about Montreal. Something that solidified the fact that I'm going to hell.

So I'm in my favourite church's gift shop (shaddup, so I have a favourite church and yeah, it's got a shop). I'm looking around at all the kitch and thinking about what an insanely bad Catholic I am, and not feeling any guilt at that when I see it. This beautiful painting of Jesus. With technicoloured light beams SHOOTING OUT OF HIS CHEST!

Suddenly I can feel it.

The world's largest burst of laughter. And it's fighting to get out. Quickly.

Of course at this point I look like I'm going to cry at the "beauty" of this painting. Nope. I'm struggling to get the fuck outta the shop. Dude, I effin' ran out of that place and barely made it out of the church. I was on the ground with laughter. Of course my mother, being a wonderfully twisted lady, nudges my friend, points at me and says "you'd think she'd be good in there. Oh no. She has to notice disco Jesus."

Ma, I loves ya.

Pray for Mojo

Oh fuck me.
I'm at work trying to justify the existence of my job position. On paper. Suddenly it doesn't look like I do that much. Oh wait.
I've just filled an entire piece of paper with things I do on a regular basis.

What have I just deduced?

They don't fucking pay me enough.
But at least I have a window seat, right?
Ha.

I am such a schmoe.
Send food stamps.
And a bottle of whiskey.
And not the cheap ass shit, either.

Yeah. I'm back. Tickled at the thought of being back in the office. Dear Lord.
Any hoodle, my Montreal weekend...point form style (cause I'm still rocking the lazy):

- sleepin'
- gambling (& winning!)
- lotsa drinking which led to the best quote of the weekend, courtesy of my mother, "now whenever I see the Heineken sign, I'll think of you"...nice to know my mother thinks of me as a total booze hound.
- more drinking
- eating rich foods and not caring about exercise
- shopping...nothing better than 50% off at like EVERY SINGLE STORE! Wooo hooo!
- did I mention drinking?

Oddly enough, I managed to stay out of trouble while I was away. This is the most surprising part of my trip. I honestly thought I'd at least get one warning somewhere. Dammit. Next time, I promise.

Silence is for mimes

Due to overwhelming comment (thank you Secret Agent Girl), the silence has ended. Well, not really. I have a headache. And therefore, cannot think of anything funny or remotely interesting. Really.

Basically, it's been a boring, domestic kinda week. Does anyone wanna hear how I managed to vacuum the loft in record time? Or how I'm always stepping on the cats? Ew, and how I just remembered that the kitty litter needs changing?
Yup, I am living a wild child life.

Though I must admit that I'm all excited at the prospect of going away for the weekend. Montreal will never be the same once I'm done with it (insert 70's porn bass line here).
I hope to drink enough to get into the Guiness Book of Records. Twice. And maybe grope a stripper or two, a la the Affleck. Buah ha ha.
Watch for me on the six o'clock news, yo.

It's official: I have nothing to say.
Enjoy the silence.
I'll be back once I begin wreaking havoc. Give it like 4 hours.
Buah ha ha.

A gay old time

One of the many reasons I love livin' in Canada?
This article says it all!

Dear folks in the Vatican,
Our Prime Minister just told you to stick it.
Buah ha ha.

Kissies,
Ren

P.S. Jesus may love you, but the rest of us think you're assholes.

What I learned today:

Don't get a cortosone shot in your knee during your lunch break. Cause when the freezing wears off during your work day, it's a pain like no other. And the great part? I've had it done before. Why didn't I remember the crazy pain?!?!?! WHY!??!!?!??!

Thank you.

I'm really a 96 year old cranky pants in disguise

Saturday. I waste a day volunteering for a large sneaker corporation. Actually, I didn't do anything for them. It was the dumbass PR team they'd hired that I'm pissed off at. Any hoodle. I chilled out all day doing "make work" projects. Lotsa fun. Like having burning spears inserted into my eyes.

At least I got free shit. Yay. And a wasted day. Double yay.

Got home around 11.30pm and decided to head to the local bar. Had a few drinks, decided that I was old and tired and needed to sleep.

I'm walking down the hall to my yuppie scum loft when I can hear the loud strains of top 40 vomit, erm, music. I look out the window and there are like 100 people "dancing" to some shite DJ out on the courtyard. I almost burst into tears. Now, don't get me wrong, but yeah, I'm a raging racist and fuck me if all you white folk don't dance the same fuckin' way. Geezus. Kidding. I dance like I'm having a seizure. Really. But I digress.

Right. So I get into my cozy little place and I can feel the music. Not in some flaky granola way. I mean I can feel it. And it's fucking up my breathing. I figure I can sleep through this cause y'know, I'm really tired. So I crawl into bed, make sure the cats are on either side of me (they make great sound barriers) and turn off the lights. At that EXACT moment, Mr. DJ cranks up the Sean Paul. Now don't get me wrong, I like Sean Paul. But not when he's screaming in my ear and making stuff vibrate on the walls. A moment later the "whoo" girls kick in. I've prayed for death many a time, but this night I meant it.

I actually had to fight the urge to call the cops about the noise.
WTF?!?!?!?

I'm only 28! Why am I thinking about ending someone else's party? When did this happen?!?!?!?!
Arrrrrgh.
Send help. And a 2-4 of beer. NOW!

Further proof that I am no longer 19 years old

Got together with an old friend of mine for dinner and drinks last night. I was having a particularly bad week (as I've whined about several times already), so the alcohol flowed freely. Dinner was excellent. Well, with the exception of the shitty funk band that kept doing their "sound check". Um, doesn't a sound check comprise of "check one. check one" and some long hair playing a few chords from Stairway to Heaven? Thought so.

Band stops, dinner continues, all's good.

We decide after dinner that we need more drinks.
Head off to this really cool bar.
The bartender, who's kinda yummy, makes wicked bevvies. Even slips us a double.
I'm feeling happy. My friend and I start to reminisce about our past relationship (yes, exes make the best friends). Funny the things one remembers about the past. Lotsa laughs abounded.

We decide to hit the abode for further drinks.
At this point it's now officially LATE. Guess who has to row less than 7 hours later? That's right. Me. I'm one fuckin' bad ass. I shrug it off and head for that last drink.
We giggle and sit around for another hour or so. I admit, that yes, I have to head home to sleep.

Catch a cab. Somewhere along the drive home, I realise that I am drunk. It's all right, I'm almost home. Almost. My brain decides that there isn't enough room in my gut for all this alcohol, it's gotta go somewhere.
I manage to get out of the cab with no accidents. It's on the walk home that I calmly lean over and ralph in the shrubberies. Ah, I put the ass in class, let me tell you.
Get home. Fall asleep. But not before looking at the clock. Ha! Less than 4 hours before I gotta get up and row.

Wake up thinking I'm going to die. It's 4.45 am. I feebly reach for the phone and call my rowing partner. Thank gawd she's understanding. I manage to postpone the row to tomorrow morning. Fall back asleep until 7.30am.
Vow never to do this again.

Bet you five bucks I pull this shit again in the next week.

Awwww yeah.

Woke up at 4.30am. No headache.
Went rowing. No headache.
Drove home blasting Queens of the Stone Age. No headache.
Did some ironing. No headache.
Thought about the office. Killer, vomit inducing headache.

Hmmm. I think it's time to get my butt outta here.

In other news, Rice Crisps make your breath smell like ass.

We're all fugitives/Look at the way we live

Guh.
So my office computer's hard drive fried to its own soundtrack. It was impressive at the time. And then I realised that it was all over.
Then the migraine set in.
Then I had Taco Bell for lunch.
Yup. A cruddy day was had.

By the evening I came to the screaming conclusion that I HATE MY JOB.
I'd rather chew off my good leg than continue travelling out into the ghetto to hang out at Weasel Central.
I'm trying to be zen about it, but right now it ain't working.
I believe in Karma and I'm starting to think that either I was a really bad person in another life or the universe is testing me.
And frankly if it's the cosmos, fuck off, I hate tests.

But here I sit with a plastic smile on my face, wondering who's watching over my shoulder.
I can't do this anymore.
I need a vacation. A new job. And while I'm at it, a pony.

Pray for Mojo.

My computer hates me.
I just lost what I thought was the funniest, most strung out sounding post.
Dammit.

I can't recapture the magic of that cracked out entry.
Well, I probably could, but that's not the point.

The point is that I work in the ghetto and my computer is a tool of the devil.
Damn you Weasel Central! Damn you!

Did you know that one of the side effects of using Nexium is "dry mouth"?
Yes. It's true.
I have been drinking water non-stop since I started my prescription.

Believe it or not, I'm sure I'd have a more productive day if I wasn't constantly running off to the loo.
I'm thisclose to moving my office into the lady's room.

*sigh*

If you'll excuse me, I've gotta go pee.

It ain't over til it's over

Good to know that the suit with the Band who Must Remain Nameless was just a hoax. But really, couldn't you totally see them doing something like that? Next they'll be suing anyone who makes the same guitar god face that they do. I can see it now.

Had a wonderfully chilled out weekend, complete with a kick ass endurance row yesterday morning. Yes, I'm relishing the quiet little things in life. That's what it's all about.
I don't think it gets any better than that, does it?

I love the guy who sits in front of me at work. He is currently "singing" along with the radio. And when I asked him what the hell he was singing, he made this mock angry face and said "Lenny Kravitz of course. What are you? Deaf?" I lurve him. He's too funny.

Too all my girls who are currently experiencing heart ache (there really are too many of you right now)...for those in the city, hugs and drinks veddy soon, and those who are outta town/country/continent....virtual drinks and LOTS of hugs abound!

What happens when you have too much time and money on your hands

Um, I'll probably get sued for even mentioning this link, but hey, whatever:

They're at it again.

Y'know, I used to really like this band. I still kinda do. I still have some of their stuff on tape. I even liked their song on that horrible "Mission Impossible 2" soundtrack. I loved the video, cause Weasel Central's headquarter in the States gets destroyed in it, bringing me minutes of joy.

But really. It's 2 chords. You can't own two effin' chords. Are album sales that slow that you must sue for ahem, "copyright infringement"?!?!?!?!?!

Uh, huh. The best part? They say they won't sue as long as they get FIFTY PERCENT of royalties on whatever song features those two chords.

I hope the whole story's just one wicked hoax. Please, let it be a joke.
Especially since they're suing a Canadian band. Dude. S'kinda funny, eh?

I think I'm going to die at my desk.
Scratch that. I know I'm going to die at my desk.

I need a vanilla Coke.
With a hefty shot of vanilla vodka.
Awww yeah.

Azucar!

Dang. Celia Cruz just passed away.

Compay Segundo, Celia Cruz and Carol Shields. All in one week.

*sigh*

In other news...I've got killer cramps that could stop a footballer (American or British) in his tracks.
Happy, happy, joy, joy.

May I present to you, Part two of my Tuesday: revenge of the cosmos.

So you already know about my great work day.

I manage to get out of here at a half decent hour, but being a bleeding heart, I agree to pick my mum up from work, effectively adding 45 minutes to my driving time. My workout is scheduled at 6. I've left the office at 4.45. Uh huh. So I figure on the way home I don't have time to drop mum at her house. She's cool with this and I drive with her to the gym. She notices rain clouds and asks if I'm going to take my umbrella. I am a bad ass, so I say no. She heads home, I head to the gym. I have the world's worst workout. I realise I should have cancelled my session, headed home and slept. My trainer feels sorry for me (and those who have to witness this) and ends the session right on time. We're standing around chatting and he points out that I'm looking a wee bit pudgy these days. I announce in a very loud voice, that yes, I am pudgy because I am fucking bloated. He turns a million shades of red, I give him a hug and head out.

On the way out of the gym I run into the VERY happy and friendly member services gal (I still can't figure out how she stays so incredibly happy. Crack? E? Dunno). She asks how the workout went. I shake my head. Her smile disappears. I leave. It's raining. No worries, I've got a hood! I pull the hood on. The heavens decide that I have just done a very bad thing. The skies open up and the equivalent of a fire hose falls upon my pathetic head. I am soaked in a matter of seconds. I drop my head and mutter "d'oh". At that exact moment, a man in a shitty little car drives just close enough that the spray from his shitty little tires spray up a tsunami. I am now beyond soaked.

I head home with the intention of gorging myself on pizza and beer. But first, why don't I tinker with my new printer? You know where this is going. To make a long story short, I kinda got everything hooked up, gave up and wandered down to the pub for a beer and salad (yeah sounds healthy, but dude! It had lotsa cheese and double dressing!).

Cue credits and closing music, "Go with the flow", by Queens of the Stone Age.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Okay. You know you're having one of "Those Days" when the prescription antacid doesn't work and you need to pop half a roll of extra strength Rolaids. Awww yeah. Envy me.

That's all I'm going to say about my fun wow day at work. Honest.

But I will say this about my stomach....there is a very unhappy alien rumbling in my gut and I suspect that at any moment that fucker's gonna come ripping through my recently purchased (on sale!) white shirt from the Crap. I can feel it. I think I will call the alien Hank.

And as luck would have it, I'm going out for sushi at lunch. I think someone's gonna be getting a rice bowl and a ginger ale. Yee haw!

If you'll excuse me, Hank and I are gonna go for a walk.

The optimist in me just pointed out that even though I got the cracked out rep, I didn't get a lecture this time around. AND I'm getting a credit of a whole $15 back. Wow.

I'm so fuckin' excited, I just peed a little.

God hates me. Really he does.
How is it that I can get the same cracked out CSR twice in less than 2 weeks?!?!?! C'mon!
Why did she need to put me on hold for 10 minutes in order to cancel my policy? And why did she let me do it over the phone with no real security check? Hmmmm. Just thought of that. Oh well, whatev.

I'm tired.
I've got a headache and damn if I couldn't use a nap RIGHT THIS FREAKIN' MINUTE.
I could also use a burger.
And a cabanna boy to go get me a burger and a beer.

I am so much more hardcore than you

Got home. Barely bothered to change out of my work clothes. Hit the sofa for "a minute" (read: the next 5 hours). Got up off the sofa long enough to make a crappy dinner. Ended up only reading 2 pages of Harry Potter. Called my mother. Whinged about not having any effin' money. Turned on the telly, realised that CSI was on. Stayed on the phone with my mother and made snarky comments throughout the entire show. Drank an immitation Coke. Did the "all right, I'm going" thing on the phone with said mother for like 20 minutes. Finally got off the phone. Lay on the sofa for another 20 minutes. Finally decided to go to bed. But not before leaving a snarky message on my friend's answering machine.

Yes. Not only am I hardcore, but I'm the fuckin' Mother Teresa of my generation.
And don't you forget it.

Thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts for my blogger gal pal in the States.

Also thinking that I need to eat again. Yay for those pills that control my acid reflux! I just ate a spicy salad and an even spicier samosa. Yes, when I push my luck, I sure do push my luck.

Yes, guy.
I'm a fookin' retard.
And I only have another hour and a half of work.

Okay, loser moment. I'm excited to get outta the office to go home, hit the sofa and attempt to finish Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I am so hardcore it hurts.
Maybe I'll even have a peanut butter and jelly sammich while reading. Well, not while reading, cause that's bad. But you know what I mean. Heh.

What I've learned today, courtesy of my doctor:
Acid Reflux, thy name is Ren.

Dammit.
*urp*

So I'm checkin' out Salon.com and this story about Britney admitting to doing the nasty with the Timberlacky.

Um, does anyone out there really care?

C'mon Brit, give it up. We already know you're a skanky ho who can't sing worth shit. So you put out. Big whoop. Am I supposed to be impressed? I'm thinking the answer is one big, fat, steaming no.

Must be a slow news day if that's one of the top "stories".
Geezus.

Heh, I just got ignored by the VeePee of the department.
This is definitely my lucky day.

I just found out why all the vegetarians I know are miserable. Food "suitable" for vegetarians tastes like shit. At least the stuff I've bought lately. Guh. The 3 bean minestrone was krap. With a side of krap. I think that may very well have been the last time I attempt to eat "healthy". Fuck that.

I need a fairy godmudder/fadder to do the following for me:
1. clean my gawd damn kitchen (it's getting gross and I don't think I could stomach it)
2. find me a new glamour-rama job that pays a billion dollars more than this soul sucking one

That's all I'm asking for. Well for now. It could change in like 10 minutes.

In case you're wondering (and I know you're not) I got new auto insurance. I wasn't on hold with these guys. I didn't get a lecture for not stating immediately that I had home insurance with the company. For that last one, um, I didn't mention it cause it took you a full 5 minutes to figure out how to imput my postal code. I didn't wanna throw you off. Geezus.
Any hoodle. The new guys. Amazing. In fact I think I told the rep that I loved her. I wasn't kidding either. They saved me two GRAND in the long run. Two grand that can go elsewhere. Like to my burgeoning crack habit. Kidding. It's heroin. Whoo. I'm just killin' it today.

I think I need a nap. And a cookie.

All right. The sun is shining, the birds are erm, no where to be seen around Weasel Central (though there is a buzzard in the office) and I'm happy.
Me.
Happy.
No punches in the throat today!
First date last night. Lasted hours. Fun was had. Sounds like a second one may be in the cards.
Yeah, I'd go on about it, but I don't wanna jinx a totally new thing. Besides I'm doing the "does she like me or does she like me" thing right now and it's taking up a lot of my brain capacity.

The easiest way to my heart? Ring me when I'm stuck in traffic and tell me to call you when I'm in the area. I'll ask why and you, in a growly oh too sexxy voice, will tell me that you want to order me a beer so it's fresh in front of me when I show up. Awww yeah.

Just cause you apologize to me, doesn't make you any less of a cow.

Even if you have a fancy pants corporate title.
Especially if you have a fancy pants corporate title.

All right. Between the stupidity of the call centre rep at the insurance place and my "higher" ups, I'm ready to go on a killing spree. But maybe I'll start with a punching spree. Punches to the throat for everyone!

Watch out bitch, this one's for you and your fancy fuckin' corporate title. And your inability to make one simple decision. It's a 'yes' or 'no' question. Pick one. Don't send me on a wild goose chase across six departments. I know I'm your lackey, but really. I don't have time for shit like that.

Asswipe.

Gotta love it.
I've been calling the new insurance goons for 2 days now and getting nothing but a busy signal. So I try again today and lo and behold! I get through. And end up on hold. 25 minutes and counting.

The best part? I realised 15 minutes ago that I gotta pee.

Why me?!?!?!? WHHYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!?!?

Apropos of nothing: I fucking hate Uncle Cracker.

Sloth, thy name is Ren.

I believe the burn out rate has been acheived. Guh. I have been ill for the last 2 weeks. If one more co-worker asks if I'm pregnant, someone's gonna get a punch in their eye. Fo' sho'.
I think this job is making me sick. Every morning when I think about coming into the office, I toss my cookies. Fuck. And I used to love this job. I thought I still did. Guess I was wrong.
It's the old "I love the people I work with, but damned if I don't hate the people I work for."
How veddy sad.

I believe I need a new job.
I was chatting with a good friend (the Fierce Accountant) about the joys of the job search (there are none), and I have given myself until January to get out of here. Why January, you may ask? Well, it's easy. That's the month that Weasel Central moves to its new swank headquarters in the 'burbs. Yup, out of the 'hood and into the 'burbs. Kill me now.

I forgot how hard it is to pimp yourself out to prospective employers when all you really wanna do is lie around in your underroos on the sofa while drinking foreign beer and watching all the "dirty" parts in Bound or that hott Peta Wilson/Ellen Barkin flick, Mercy. Though if you know of a job that's looking for someone who does all that kinda stuff, lemmie know, k?

Turns out that Katharine Hepburn died yesterday.
I thought she'd died like 5 years ago.
My bad.

What a weekend.

Friday. Dinner was wicked, though it was kind of a 'double date' of sorts...thankfully, really. Conversation was great, food was good, company was amazing and she was HOTT. Yup. Wandered around Church street (feel the Pride vibe!), chatted, got the updates from my girls that she was interested and thought I was good lookin' (good to know that I do in fact clean up well). End of the night, I offered to walk her back to her car, the gals conveniently fell back and we wandered off. Did some chattin' and laughing and just as the conversation got quieter (you know what I'm talking about) this car full of youngins pulls up and they're all "Are you leaving? We want your spot". So we rushed the ending, though I actually remembered to ask for digits. All in all, it was good. I think I'll ring her today. Wish me luck.

Saturday. Went rowing, chilled out, went to Costco (Kimmie, your isht's gonna get mailed out this week), got new tires (finally). Met up with the girls and went to Church street to check out the action again. Sometime after midnight we go in search of coffee and find pepper spray instead. Can I tell you how much that shit hurts? I was still coughing well into Sunday. Way to put a damper on Pride weekend. Stupid humans.

Sunday. Skipped rowing on account of my pepper spray experience. Slept in. Went to Niagara on the Lake with my rowing partner. Tested all the wine I could (no drinkin' and drivin' here my friend). Basically had a nice relaxing day. Bought wine. Marvelled at how quiet it was. Damn SARS, West Nile and um, what was the other thing? Though it made traffic non-existent. But I feel sorry for all those places that make their big dollars off of dumb ass tourists. Come visit Ontario! We promise you won't die of anything weird! Honest!