Saturday, 30 September 2006

The Odd Couple


Sometimes I meet a couple and I wonder why they're a couple. I know I ranted about attraction a couple of days ago, but that can only take you so far. At some point you have to find yourself happy and fulfilled and joyful in your relationship and it makes me sad when I see people who aren't.

I saw quite a few couples at a party I went to a couple of weeks ago. Only two of them made me smile. The others made me want to shake them and tell them to move on already.

There was the quiet girl whose husband spoke for her or louder than her even if you asked her the question. He was completely overpowering and she looked like she had lost her personality. She didn't seem comfortable and there was no sparkle in her eyes. The man you marry is supposed to make your eyes sparkle.

There was the pretty girl with the boyfriend who thought he was gorgeous. He snapped his gum a lot and told us all about his PhD work while she sat and listened, looking like she'd heard it all before. Ladies, if he's working that hard to sell himself, he's probably not all that confident.

And then there was the nice, good looking guy whose girlfriend shook her head or rolled her eyes at everything he said. Guys, I understand that she's good looking and dresses up real nice like? But she doesn't respect you and that's really not cool.

Sometimes there are couples that, upon first glance, appear to be mismatched, but as you watch them it all seems to work. They get each other's sense of humour or each other's sense of life. They take care of each other and seem to be a team. They're happy and fun to be around. You can see them together for ever.

The oddly matched couple that's happy? That's the one you want to be. Your relationship should add to your life, lift your spirit and make you happy.

Friday, 29 September 2006

Cool!

I am watching the fog roll in right now. And I'm not saying that metaphorically.

I really want to say "I am LITERALLY watching the fog roll in right now." because I totally am.

I've never seen it happen quite this quickly before at this time of day. Fog here is usually a morning thing. It's just after 5 pm right now.

It's been a sunny, warm day and it was sunny, blue skies 10 minutes ago. Now I can't see buildings more than three blocks away. The mist came in really quickly. I can feel the temperature changing through the window too.

I tried to take a photo to show you what it's like but it just looked like white fuzz. I can't capture the mist. But it's cool!


PS. I'm feeling like I have to explain myself here, because really, I'm not crazy. If you live in San Francisco you may think I've gone a bit batty because, come on, it's fog. But, seriously. We do get fog here. In the mornings. Or evenings, once it's dark! I do not remember ever seeing fog roll in like this on the afternoon of what's been a sunny, warm day. I just don't. Hence my "OOOOOOOH!" I mean think about it. You walked into a Safeway to get your groceries in your shorts and t-shirt and you walked out a few minutes later and it's foggy and cold? That's bizarre and cool man! Any Victoria-dwellers wanna back me up here that it's unusual and I'm not totally bonkers? ;) Also? I went to take a warm shower because it's gotten cold and? No. Hot. Water. Brrrrr. So... I'm going to go make some tea now. Three posts today, huh? I'll try to restrain myself from now on. ;)

UPDATE: 5:50 pm. All gone! Mister Sun won and has blown all the fog and clouds away (for now). Double cool!

Fitting

It seems fitting to me that I found this just after posting my previous post. I felt kind of bummed after my posting and then I found this on Technorati's "popular links." So to bring some balance, to even out my blog karma, to spread a little more love in the world, take a look at this. The Free Hug campaign. (Make sure you read the "about" segment on You Tube, it's a neat story)


Free hugs campaign. 

And yes, it made me cry. In a good way.

Now go hug someone! :)

PS. If it's not loading for you (blogger has been a bit under the weather lately) here's a link that should take you there.

It's Not That Easy Being Mean

Do you ever dislike someone the moment they walk in to the room?

I always feel badly when I do, so I make myself take the time to hang out with that person to try to change my initial feeling. It doesn't always help.

Sometimes I just don't gel with people. Especially people who feel they need to prove themselves and show everyone else how smart they are and how they're so much better than the rest of us. That doesn't work with my personality very well. Neither does a complete stranger mocking me.

I feel mean admitting that I don't like someone, but I guess, in reality, not everyone's going to like me either. Doesn't mean we can't all be nice and get along though, does it?

I wonder how many people dislike me as soon as I walk into a room?

Thursday, 28 September 2006

Attraction


How much easier would it be if the people we were attracted to were automatically attracted to us?

I was out this weekend and the guy I was checking out was checking out the girl sitting next to me. I suppose that's amusing in an ironic sort of way but still....

It's hard enough sometimes to find someone you're attracted to. And then you have to hope that they're single and available. You'd think that was enough to deal with, but there's the added problem that the person in question may not be attracted to you at all. And that's annoying.

I've said before that there should be some kind of "single signal" to help us single folks out. Like, engaged men should wear rings and people in relationships should wear something similar. Maybe a circlet on their heads so we can all run around looking like Medieval royalty. That'd be cool.

But I've also said, and Mother Nature really has to listen to me on this one, that humans should give off a noticeable signal in regards to attraction. I've considered it and have decided that we need glowing auras that work like traffic lights.

You glow green when you're attracted to and interested in the person. There would be a yellow or amber glow when you weren't sure and a red glow when it was a no.

Think of the time we'd save! You'd look at a hot guy or gal and see a green glow and know that you could ask for their number or chat them up. You'd be able to smile politely at a red glow person and move on without getting your hopes up and wasting your time.

I dunno. I just wish the whole attraction thing was easier and fairer. And don't get me wrong, I know attraction grows and changes and sometimes disappears once you get to know someone, but I'm talking about that initial thing. I'm talking about leaving a party feeling like you didn't waste your night flirting with the wrong guy or gal. I know I'm being completely superficial.

I'm allowed. A single girl's gotta do what a single girl's gotta do. ; )

Wednesday, 27 September 2006

Guess How Much I Love You?


As I was driving home tonight, there was this amazing, AMAZING light. It was this glow of an extended sunset in the distance just at not-quite-dusk. I've seen colour like that before only in Hawaii and I found it equally enchanting then.

There were perfect songs playing on my iShuffle ( or maybe they were perfect because of the mood ) and it was really a beautiful sight and feeling. I didn't have my camera with me, as is often the case so I drove quickly home to get it.

As I drove, the light changed, as it does, and a lovely crescent moon rose to my left in a dusky blue evening sky, while to the right of me the sun was setting orange and red low in the horizon. Buildings behind me were highlighted from behind by the dark and lit up in front with the sunset.

I truly wish I could have captured it on a camera for you, it was just gorgeous and really made me feel happy to be living in this darn fine town.

I knew I wouldn't get the light quite in time, but I did the next best thing and ran in, grabbed my camera and took off down to the beach. The photo you see captures the tail end of the glorious sunset that created such a glow this evening. I wanted you all to be able to see even just a tiny bit of what I saw.

I know I may sound like a bit of an enraptured crazy person right now but it was really *that* pretty.

So. There you go. A nice sunset for you to look at and think happy thoughts over.

I hope some local readers got to see some of the glowing-ness that I did. Nature rocks.

So do you guys! : )

Hrm

What do you do when you're at a party and someone keeps calling you the wrong name?

I mean, you can only correct someone so many times before it just doesn't seem worth it anymore.

Especially when it's loud and the dude is drunk and you really don't care if he can remember your name because you're trying to get out of the conversation anyway. Still annoying though.

Tuesday, 26 September 2006

Mawwage


"Mawwage. Mawwage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawwage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wifin a dweam. . . " The Impressive Clergyman from The Princess Bride.

Weddings are weird when you're single. It's a massive orgy of coupledom: The happy couple in all their wedding blissfulness. The couples who've been together for a while getting all smoochy and romantic and maybe even talking about the day when they might join their lives together. The new couples, kind of embarrassed that they're at a wedding together. Maybe it's their first big date. Maybe it's their first official outing together. The older married couples who have been married longer than you've been alive. Couples everywhere. A plethora of couples.

I've only been to a wedding with a boyfriend once or twice. Both times were a little awkward because people inevitably asked us when our big day was coming up and there was a lot of smiling and laughing and secretly wondering what he might say if I asked him the same thing.

When you're single at a wedding, it's equally awkward, but in a different way. When you're single, you feel like the third wheel. Times fifty. The people you're with will all go through some sort of romantic moment, during the ceremony, or reception or dancing. And you won't. And no matter how secure you are in your singleness, at some point, seeing all this will make you feel very single and alone. It'll be a reminder that you don't have someone there to share the moment with and you don't have someone to create romantic moments with.

At some point, someone may try to set you up with their drunk single friend who's at the party, but I'm not a fan of the drunk ones so I usually point them in the direction of the equally drunk bridesmaids.

Don't get me wrong. I love weddings. I cry at them. Even at ones on tv. I enjoy weddings and am glad I've been to the ones I have. It just sometimes is a tricky thing to survive when you're a single girl. Maybe when I get married, I'll make sure to seat all the couples in a different area than the single folks. Or maybe by the time I get married I'll be the last single woman alive so it won't matter anyway.

Monday, 25 September 2006

Strangely Romantic

It was my grade 12 year. I really liked a guy in grade 11 and we'd started hanging out with another couple, mutual friends I'd played matchmaker for.

One night, the four of us were lying on our backs in the middle of the local park, surrounded by trees in a clearing by some picnic benches. It was summer and the grass was cool but not damp, the temperature was perfect. As we lay there in the dark, looking at the stars, I was next to the guy I liked; not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that we knew the other person was there without really knowing what to do about it.

We'd been there less than half an hour when some other people showed up. It was a bunch of guys from the rival highschool, drunk and looking for trouble. My crush was a bit of a badass and was well known around town so I was worried he'd be up for a fight and things would get ugly. I didn't want to have anything to do with this guy if he was willing to fight in front of me, but it seemed unavoidable.

We all stood up, and my guy placed himself in front of me, keeping the drunk guys away from me. He took a few steps towards them and my girl friend and I backed away. There was some shoving and swearing but despite the fact that our two guys were outnumbered, a fight didn't happen; just some teen posturing and a mention of the fact that this park was, for lack of a better term, our space, and the guys needed to leave us all alone.

They left soon enough and we decided to head somewhere else for the rest of the night. As we were leaving, my guy pulled me aside and asked me if I was ok. I nodded, a little shaken, and he gently took my hand and held it all the way back to the car. The four of us went back to his house and lay in his backyard on a blanket and looked for shooting stars. This time, I lay right next to my crush, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me. That moment back at the park, him taking my hand after he'd deflected what could have been a nasty fight, was somehow the start of our relationship and we timidly spent the rest of the summer together.

Something about that whole evening has always stuck with me as one of the most romantic nights in my life. Maybe it was the star-gazing, maybe it was feeling safe and cared for. Maybe it was just a good combination of everything, and who he was, and how I felt about him. Nevertheless, it was sweet and very nice.

Sometimes the most romantic things are those that aren't planned. Sometimes romance just happens. The best relationships include planned moments and the moments that happen.


I mean, who knew holding hands under the stars would be so perfect?

Actually... that does sound rather lovely.

Saturday, 23 September 2006

Ahhhhhhh


Thank goodness it's Saturday. I needed this one. Will probably need all of the next Saturdays and Sundays and holidays for a while.

This Saturday broke clear and crisp and about as perfect as a September Saturday can be. I hope you're enjoying yours just as much.

Not a lot to say, so check out the archives if you need something to read.

Have a good weekend. I'll see you Monday, if not sooner. My couch is calling to be napped on.

Go hug someone you love. Call someone you haven't spoken to in a while. Go spread some love, people.

Friday, 22 September 2006

I Don't Know Where My Brain Comes Up With These Things

Do you know what's a fun word to say? Spelunking.

Go on, say it! Spelunking.

Fun, huh?

( Don't say it too much or the word loses all meaning and just becomes really, really odd. Same thing happens with "purple". )

I figured, though, that if a guy ever asked me to go on a spelunking date with him? It probably wouldn't go over well.

See, I think if I was ever asked to go spelunking I'd probably laugh. I'd laugh and then say the word a few times in a row, most likely out loud. Then I'd probably tell the poor guy that I thought it was an awesome word and I might even tell him to say it a few times.

If he was still in the vicinity, then I'd probably tell him, that yes, I'd like to try spelunking ( giggle ) but that I might get a little scared of the caves and wouldn't I feel claustrophobic?

So, gentlemen? Probably not a good first date suggestion with me ok? Because I like to try to hide my craziness until at least the second date.

Thanks!



Spelunking!

Thursday, 21 September 2006

Um

Someone in my building is playing bongos. Really loudly.

Unless it's Matthew McConaughey, half naked and sweaty, trying to find my bedroom, they'd better stop with the bongo playing.

Cuz I need to go to sleep now and those suckers reverberate through the walls something fierce!

Getting Off


Ever since I saw this sign on the side of a railway car, I knew I wanted to write a post about masturbation.

You see, I have a mind that finds itself stuck in the gutter more often than not and when I saw this sign, my thought process was something along these lines:

"Why would they need to use a jack on a train. . . waaaaaait a second. Tee hee. Jack. Hee hee. Jack Here. Hee hee! It looks like a sign telling guys where they should jack off. Like, where they should masturbate. Like, how some guys apparently jack off into a sock or towel or something. This sign tells them where to do it! Look guys! Jack here! Heh heh. I'm thinking about boy's pee pees! Hee hee." *Points sign out to friends, wonders why they're not laughing. Takes photo. Giggles to self every time sees photo from that moment on.*

Writing an actual post about masturbation, however, has proven to be far more challenging than I thought. Masturbation, you see, is a private matter, and I'm not willing to discuss the habits of any of my exes and I'm certainly not bold enough to be that open about myself. Especially in public. In fact, I remember once categorically denying that masturbation was something I ever did or had ever done.



It was my first year of University and my friends and I had become friendly with the older guys living two floors beneath us. One night, my best pal and I were down in the room of one of these cute, older (therefore slightly dangerous) guys and a few beverages of the alcoholic sort had been consumed by all. The guy and his buddy, let's call them Mike and Spike, were joking around with us when Mike asked my friend and I about our masturbation habits. Without hesitation we both denied we EVER did that, eww, gross.

Mike continued to drill us. Never? Not even once by accident? Were we sure?

Yep. Never. Nope, we wouldn't do that. Neither of us. No. Not at all.

Mike laughed, gently, and sighed in a knowing manner.

"One day, girls, you will grow up enough to tell me that you do indeed masturbate and you're not embarrassed to admit it."

"NEVER!" we protested loudly and with great determination. "We have never done this thing you speak of and we will never do it. So there!" And we finished our bottles of peach Schnapps and left, indignant and embarrassed.


Flash forward several years. . .

Mike and my friend and I are over at his house sharing a bottle of wine and remembering our early days in University. My friend and I turn to each other and with a nod of agreement, put down our glasses.

"Mike," we say, "we have something we need to confess.... "



"You were right."



Wednesday, 20 September 2006

It's the Little Things

I was slogging away on an elliptical machine earlier, paying little attention to the blurry man-shaped people walking by, when one of them stopped, picked up a pen that had fallen to the floor, and put it back in its proper spot.

This one act made me look over to check him out.

Any guy who'd bother picking up something that wasn't his just...because? Well, that right there is a guy who's just become attractive.

Guys? It's the little things that matter. Especially when no one's looking. Really.

My God, It's Full of Stars

They're coming out of the woodwork right now folks. Potential dates, everywhere. It's kind of bizarre.
  • A friend of a friend who has broken up with his girlfriend and they're SURE we'd make an awesome couple and we have to meet.
  • Another friend's friend who's moving back to town in a few months and we totally have to get together he's such an awesome guy.
  • An email from a guy who's name I vaguely recognize and might have been someone I had a huge crush on years ago and haven't heard from since.
  • My friend's boss who would like me to meet their son. ( My friend has met him and said she was practically drooling and wished she wasn't married. )
  • Neighbours across the street from my parents who keep asking my folks to bring me over for coffee when their son is visiting.
  • Guys who have girlfriends but my friends don't like their girlfriends and want to break them up.
  • New co-workers who think I should meet their son who's just finished his degree.

It's craziness. I go months with no prospects at all, and all of a sudden they're everywhere. Well, almost. Theoretically.

Because out of all these potential hunky boyfriends people say I need to meet? I have only met one of them and that was for all of about 20 minutes. And then he left town.

I'm glad people have such good intentions. But come on. . . If there's someone I really, really, totally have to meet because we'd be so great together? Then let's get on with the meeting already. I know you're all happily married and whatnot but I'm still single. Let's put a rush order on things shall we?

So. Let's you, your hubby, this hunky potential boyfriend and I all go hang out together so that I don't have to worry about going on a date and get all shy and not be able to make decent conversation because I'm so nervous. Okay? Okay. I'm sitting by my social calendar waiting to pencil you all in.

Get on it, or leave me in peace. It's the teasing that's driving me nuts.

Tuesday, 19 September 2006

You Know


You know you've moved on when the songs that used to remind you of him become, once again, just damn good songs.



Breathe - Telepopmusik.




Welcome back baby, I missed you.

Monday, 18 September 2006

Did I Miss a Memo?

Apparently today was "wear as little as possible at the gym" day for the ladies.

I missed the memo, but the girl in the shorts and bra top (it's raining and chilly today, by the way) and the girl in her skimpy midriff showing top doing a series of stretches that made her look like she was in a Playboy photo shoot, well, apparently they both got it.

I wonder how the memo didn't get to me. Maybe someone forgot to attach them to the coversheets on the TPS reports? Ummmmmm yeah.

Well Then

Sunday, 17 September 2006

Get off my Lawn you Crazy Kids


I was driving with my friends downtown the other week when these young guys pulled up next to us in this big ol' car.

I glanced over and was joking with my friend about how hot these young guys thought they were when the driver looked at me, winked, and jacked up the hydraulics on his car, making it jump up and down a little.

I laughed and as they tore away, I was tempted to call out after them, "But I'm old enough to be your mother!" But I realized that unless I had some kind of early teenaged pregnancy I don't remember? I'm not actually old enough to be their mother.

So I sat there trying to come up with what would have been the ideal thing to say instead. I'm old enough to be your sister? No. That doesn't work. I'm old enough to be your... what? Your...

And then it came to me.

It may have been too late, but I was tempted to roll down the window and shout after those young guys, " I'm old enough to be your parole officer!"

Ha. That would have shown them, eh?

Saturday, 16 September 2006

To the Cute Guy With the Cute Girlfriend

Do NOT check me out while you're holding your girlfriend's hand. Just don't.

Because while I might be the tiniest bit flattered? I'm far more creeped out.


So. . . unless she's your sister and you're holding her hand to help get her safely across the road? Don't check me out so very obviously. It's just not cool.

Friday, 15 September 2006

Someone Has to be First


At some point in a relationship, you usually ask your partner to tell you about their first time.

Or, at least, I do.

I like to hear about how old he was and who it was with and how it went and what he thought about it all.

My first time story is kind of funny to me (now). I was lucky that the experience wasn't horrible or frightening, but it certainly wasn't what I'd hoped. If I'm honest, I was disappointed. I've never been the type of woman who dreamed about their wedding day, but I waited a long time to lose my virginity and I had ideas about how it would be and what I would think and what the guy would say and what it all would mean. When I saw the movie Stealing Beauty, I cried, because *that* was the way I had wanted to lose my virginity. Romantically, lovingly, with a guy I adored. Something meaningful and wonderful. In the Italian countryside.

My first time had lots of the things I'd hoped for. I adored the fellow. I was sure I was in love. (I might just have been. It certainly seemed like it at the time.)

The entire situation was romantic, in my mind. It might not have been Italy, but I was away from home in a residence room of my very own. I had finally found a real boyfriend. We liked each other very much. The kissing and stuff was going well. We held hands a lot, gazed into each other's eyes all the time, and exchanged meaningful platitudes.

We certainly felt lovingly towards each other and I was nervously anticipating what was going to be a wonderful first time.

So. Love? Check. Guy I adored? Check. Romance? Sure!

So what happened that evening that was less than... perfect?

Well, I won't get too much into the details, I'll retain some sense of decorum, but, let's just say it was my first time but not his, there was a condom that neither of us knew how to use, there was a very romantic phrase uttered by yours truly which was not acknowledged in the slightest, there was some ejaculation of the premature type and, finally, there was me pretending it was ok because he was so upset he wouldn't even speak to me or look at me.

The good news is that we did care about each other and while the experience wasn't what I hoped, it wasn't horrible.

I feel badly though and sometimes wish I could travel back in time and tell myself that that particular moment wasn't going to be the one I wanted it to be.

Now, however, I like that I have a first time story that I find amusing. And, trust me, when you hear the whole story with all the details, it's amusing. I used to be disappointed that my first time wasn't as romantic and perfect as I would have liked but I'm ok with that now. Because while there may only be one true first time? There will be a first time with each new relationship. And those upcoming times have a shot at fulfilling my every romantic dream.

Yes, Mr. Perfect, that's a challenge.

Thursday, 14 September 2006

#5: Redux

So this nice, unsuspecting guy got on to Treadmill #5 today. He started running and the damn machine attacked him.

His iPod suddenly dropped off of him, landing on the moving treadmill right under his feet, nearly tripping him, and crashed onto the floor behind him.

Having the history with Treadmill #5 that I do, I found myself giggling and had to pretend to wipe my face in my towel. I felt badly for laughing but I was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Buddy picks up his iPod, puts it back on and goes back to running. iPod falls off. Again! Clatter, bang, trip, crash!

I nearly burst out laughing, all the while thinking how evil that machine is.


Now I'm thinking that maybe I need to change the name of this blog to Treadmill#5 is evil.com


I hope buddy's iPod is ok.

Wednesday, 13 September 2006

L'automne


Man. Sure can feel a bite in the air lately. Fall is rolling in.

I know Jim mentioned it a while ago, but walking to the store yesterday, just like I've done a gazillion times this summer, I realized that I was chilly. The air just didn't hold any heat.

No more summer outfits for a while, I guess. Bummer.

Oh well. At least it's not getting dark earlier.


*looks outside*



Sigh.

Tuesday, 12 September 2006

I am SO cool

Um.

I just walked into a tree.

I rock!


Update: Two days later.
Apparently I walked into the tree branchy thing hard enough to leave me with a little lump and a cut. Um. Ooops.

Heh

Last week as I was driving to my new, scary, change-is-bad and I'm stressed out workplace I felt awful. I was nervous and sad and grumpy and just not liking the fact that I have to work for a living. Nothing was cheering me up. I was in a rather bleak mood.

But? The Universe is so very good to me. As I got out of my car, I glanced at the sign painted on the wall opposite my parking slot. No Parking, it says, in nice bold yellow stencilled letters all along that wall. Except where I park.

Where I park, someone has spray painted over the P with an F and the K with a T so that what the sign reminds everyone is: No FarTing.

It made me smile. My black cloud of a mood was gone. Now, every morning I'm grinning when I get out of my car. And there's nothing better than starting your day off happy.

Some juvenile delinquent out there is brilliant. And has a good sense of humour.

Well done, I say!

Monday, 11 September 2006

To The New Guy at the Video Store

You overcharged me by a dollar and those videos can stay with me for a week not two days. But you're cute and new so I'll let you get away with it this time ok?


To myself:

You're such a sucker!

Nine Eleven

I don't really know what to say today. I had a random post ready to go but I haven't posted it. It seemed silly. But then, I thought, it's ok to be silly, the world needs silly. And joy. And laughter. And happy. But still... it didn't feel quite right somehow. So I haven't posted anything yet today. But I want to. So, for now, I'll just say this:



9/11 happened five years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday.



Sunday, 10 September 2006

Bonus Marks if You Can Figure Out Why I Chose This Photo For This Post


The gym I choose to go to is very low key. I'm not a fan of the "meat-head" type muscle guys, and my gym has fewer of them than others. Plus, any of the really muscle-type guys work out in a different area than I do so I'm happy. And un-testosteroned.

That being said, there is another type of gym goer I've noticed. I don't know if it happens at other gyms at well, but I've seen it enough at mine that I've named it. I call it the Gym Couple.

The Gym Couple is an interesting phenomenon. Allow me to help you identify this species...

The male of the Gym Couple is buff. Almost too buff. He is proud of his muscles and wears very tight t-shirts or shirts of a shiny material that show off his muscles. He doesn't appear to sweat and has hair that is styled and short. Possibly highlighted. He may wear glasses, but they, like his outfit will be fashionable and probably expensive. His outfit is most likely completed with black pants and runners of some sort. He firmly believes he is (as the kids these days say) all that and a bag of chips. He may, indeed, be attractive, but the attitude and outfit work against him. Big time. Especially the attitude.

The female of the Gym Couple is not particularly buff. Her figure will vary from petite to slender with large bresteses. The figure, however, is not as important as the attire. The female will be wearing a very expensive and matching outfit. In this town, there is a 98% chance that her top will be from lululemon.* More than this expensive, spaghetti strap, very low cut, brightly coloured top and black bottom combo is.... the rest. The most noticeable feature of the female G.C. is that she will be fully made up. Usually wearing more makeup than I'd wear on a date. Or a photoshoot, were I a world class model under heavy lighting. Along with her full makeup she will also be tanned and have long acrylic nails. The nails, though, will usually be french manicured as she is a sporty, natural type girl.

If you are not sure you have spotted a Gym Couple watch them for a while. After two or three minutes of observation, you will notice the female approaching the male and asking him for some sort of pointer or advice on using the machines or lifting the weights. He will show her how much he can lift and how she should do it. He will then do an extra set of reps in front of her while explaining what he is doing. The female will then retreat back to her own area for five or six minutes while the male lifts or pushes around a lot of heavy things and grunts in a way that makes you realize you now know what he sounds like when they're having sex. (Which, really, isn't a thought I appreciate being put in my head.)

Now, all joking aside, I do have to say that there are other lovely, sweet, fit, happy and healthy couples at the gym. There are also couples who are there helping each other get fit and healthy and I love to see that too. I just have never seen the point of wearing makeup to exercise in when you're supposed to be there to sweat and get stinky and not worry about being gorgeous. But maybe that's just me. I'm not using the gym as a potential pick up spot and if and when I find my Mr. Perfect, I hope he doesn't mind if we go to the gym separately, or if while we're there we pretend we don't know each other. Because really, I won't have my glasses on to see if he's winking at me anyway.

I don't hate the Gym Couple. I wish them well. They just make me feel a little uncomfortable. I just think there are other gyms more suitable for them.

It's like going to a zoo in Texas or somewhere else really hot and seeing a polar bear lounging on concrete in the sun. It just seems out of place.

Maybe I could start a rehabilitation program? Send them back to their natural environment? I could call it Help Send All Gym Couples Back To Gold's : HSAGCBTG.

Hmmm, that's not a great acronym. Not catchy enough for a phone campaign. I'll keep working on it.





*Lululemon is such a craze right now that my friend and I made up a game around it. It was like punchbuggy, (where you get to punch the other person when you see a Volkswagen Bug go by.) but this was LululemonPunch. We had to stop after five minutes in a Starbucks in North Van because our arms and legs were getting bruised.

Amused

I'm not one for plugging things and I'm not a big fashion magazine reader. But, there are exceptions to every rule, no?

I was in Costco a couple of weeks ago and they were selling Elle Canada for $1.50. (It's on a $1.99 special this month apparently.) I bought it (I like to read while on the treadmill, but not focus my attention, and magazines are perfect for this.) and it wasn't bad. In fact, I found myself chuckling away at a few articles in the middle of the magazine that were about dating and romance.

I would have scanned the articles and put them up for you here but I think that's kind of illegal and I don't have a scanner.

So. If you're looking for something light to read and you don't mind magazines and you live in Canada and you have an extra toonie around (twoonie?)... consider getting yourself the September Elle Canada magazine before it's off the shelves. (Avril Lavigne cover) There's some good dating stuff about mid-way through the magazine that you may find amusing.

Plus, you can chuckle at the fashions we're supposed to be wearing. Hats that look like riding helmets anyone?

Anyone?

Saturday, 9 September 2006

The Great Canadian Beer Festival and I Are No Longer on Speaking Terms

As I got off the treadmill earlier, (where I was walking so slowly I was practically going backwards) I noticed a really good looking guy fully, totally, checking me out.

And all I could think was. . . .


"This would be a really bad time to throw up."





I'm going back to bed now. That will be all.

To the "Other" Drivers

The reason I have that car's length of space between me and the car in front of me? It's not so that you can cut in front of me. Especially without signalling.

Oh, and also?

If you tailgate me when I'm already going over the speed limit? I'm just going to slow all the way down to the speed limit.

And one more thing.

The "two lanes will become one in a bit" sign? Is not a signal for you to double your speed just so you can get in ahead of me. There's no one behind me! It won't save you any time.


Okay. Bye.

Friday, 8 September 2006

Hmmmmm

Is the difference between being looked at (or "eyed-up") and being leered at how attractive you find the looker?

Thursday, 7 September 2006

Jimi Thing


I love music. Love, love, love it. You have no idea. I LOVE music. I can't even do justice to how much I love it, how much it means to me, and what I get out of it.

Sometimes it's the melody, sometimes it's the lyrics, sometimes it's the artist, but most often it's the dynamic combination of all of these and that something mystical that just works together to create magic. And when it does work together? It's glorious. Transcendent.

I love music.

I was listening to a song recently and it hit me that a particular line in the song may be one of my all time favourite lines of lyric, ever. Maybe it won't strike you in the same way. That's not my point. For me? This one line is just in the perfect place at the perfect time and when I hear it? I just smile. Sometimes I even catch myself holding my breath.

Let me help with the context. Jimi Hendrix. Red House. The song is sex on wheels to start off with. But I digress.

Mid-way through the song:

Lord there's a red house over yonder. Lord, that's where my baby stays. I ain't been home to see my baby in ninety nine and one half days.

Wait a minute something's wrong here. The key won't unlock this door. Wait a minute, something's wrong. Lord have mercy, this key won't unlock this door. Something's gone wrong here. I have a bad, bad feeling, that my baby don't live here no more.

That's alright, I've still got my guitar.

Look out now.


"That's alright. I've still got my guitar."



I've had that feeling. The feeling that at least you have that one thing that will save you. The one thing that matters outside of everything else that you pretend matters.

I've lived with a musician. I've seen something spiritual happen when a truly gifted person plays their chosen instrument. There is something incredibly sexual and sexy to me about a man who can play an instrument well. And if it's a guitar? Well... my knees have been known to buckle. I put up with a lot when I lived with my musician ex. Maybe because of the guitar. And the mad talent.

Jimi Hendrix may not have lived the perfect life, but you know he had his guitar. And there's something about the way he says it and then goes on to jam out an incredible riff. It just blows me out of the water every time.

That's alright, I've still got my guitar.

You've got to respect a guy who's girl has just left him and he knows he'll get over it because he's still got his true love.

I could go on for ages about why that particular line hits me, but because you're not me? It won't mean as much to you, if anything. It's a gut reaction for me. In trying to explain it, I realized I can't. It's not explainable. It's a physical reaction I have to how those particular sound waves hit my brain. I love it. I love music. I love the song. Jimi rocked out on that one. And many many others.




And if his baby doesn't love him no more? He knows her sister will . . . .


As an aside: I don't know who the girl is. She's a hot chick and it's a hot song. They seemed to fit each other.

Wednesday, 6 September 2006

Y'all Are Going to be So Proud of Me!

We've established, I believe, that I am somewhat shy and perhaps even clueless when it comes to attractive personages of the male persuasion, yes? Well, there was a breakthrough just now that I believe my three loyal readers will appreciate!

As I was leaving the gym this evening, a cute guy opened the door for me. This in itself wasn't unusual. (Because, hello? Chivalry rocks!)

I said thank you, which isn't unusual seeing as I always say thank you. (Because, well... politeness is awesome too!)

But then, he said... and I quote "You're *very* welcome". Which is a little bit unusual, seeing as most people just nod or say "You're welcome." or "No problem." or something.

But the MOST unusual part of it all is what I did next.

My brain proceeded to register that this guy had not only put a flirty intonation into his answer, but had used a tone of voice that was more than just casual stranger to stranger politeness. ( I'd like to think he purred it. It was rather yummily said!) And when I realized that this cute guy had purred "You're *very* welcome" and that I'd processed that fact ALMOST INSTANTLY rather than thirty minutes later, I did, what is for me, quite unusual.

I turned back and smiled at him.

And? He was watching me and smiling right back at me! We'd both done the 'turn back at the person walking away from you and look thing' (Insert girlish giggle here.)

I tell you, it was like some kind of miracle! I had managed to smile back at a guy who was, for lack of a better term, flirting with me. It was awesome!

It may not be a date or anything, but still... baby steps people, baby steps!

Good job me!



( Let's just ignore the fact that I was so eager to get home and type this up that I couldn't quite manage to untie the double knots in my runners and nearly fell over like a total dork, shall we? Mmmmmkay.)

The Grass is Always Greener

I love this town. Totally. On my way to get gas this morning I drove past a guy out mowing his front lawn. His completely dead, yellow front lawn.

I couldn't help but wonder, has he been cutting it regularly or has he waited til the end of the season to cut his....uh...dead..... waaaaaaaaaait. That's not true! What I couldn't help but wonder was why he was mowing his dead lawn at all. It was hilariously awesome.

(Warning: Rant ahead)
I know some people take a lot of pride in their lawns, but it's a phenomenal waste of water to keep them green. But people don't always see it that way.

A simple example? A friend was visiting from Vancouver this summer and asked why so many of the local schools had let their fields go brown. I told him that it was most likely because they only watered the fields that were in use over the summer. He laughed and told me that was so stupid. I didn't bother pointing out the financial savings as well as the water and environmental savings. I just shrugged.

We need to watch our water usage. All of us. Whether we're on water restrictions (like here) or worse (like Up-Island) we all need to use less less less water. And electricity. And paper. And gasoline. And stuff. And everything. And..... (trails off, ranting endlessly...)

(Rant ended prematurely due to the fact that, really...come on)

So yeah. Rock on guy cutting your dead grass. I'm proud of you. Not only did you save lots of water, you showed great pride in your already dead lawn. Beauty. And don't worry, it'll rain soon. The grass'll come back!

*Wanders off singing...oh the grass came back, the very next day, the grass came back, they thought it was a goner but the grass came back, it just wouldn't stay all yellllloowwwwwwwww*

Tuesday, 5 September 2006

Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay Please


Oh my goodness I love the ferries. Why do I love the ferries? Well, thank you for asking!

I love the ferries because they're nothing but a glorious people watching journey of joy. So many people. Of all types! Cute. Young. Not. People traveling. Families. Couples. Odd people. Interesting people. People! And I get to stare at them all.

Plus? Where I sit tends to be sunny for the first half hour or so of the trip so I'm allowed to wear my sunglasses. That means I can stare and be less likely to get caught! Hooray!

Except, I wouldn't mind the hunky French guy I saw this trip catching me. Nudge, nudge, wink wink.

But, it's also stunningly beautiful on the ferries. Those of us who live around here are spoiled by this Pacific Northwest beauty. The passage through this strait is especially pretty. Breathtaking, if you take the time to look. And breathe. It's easy for those of us who take the ferry regularly to forget, or to be blind to just how beautiful it all is. Right there. Just outside the window.

I took a few evening shots out the window on this trip. You can see them tagged as "Ferry Series" in my flickr photostream. This link should take you to the start of them. Or you could just get your butt on a ferry yourself. Aim for sunset time if you can. 'S pretty. And watch the people. 'S fun.


By the way... (BING BING) This is an important safety announcement...*



*inside joke for BC Ferry travellers ; )

Monday, 4 September 2006

Stand Up Kind of Guy

I'm pretty lucky. I've only ever been stood up once.

I was at a going away party for a friend of a friend a few years ago. My friends and I had just sat down with our first drink when this very cute guy walked in wearing this funky suede jacket. He had an awesome smile. One of my friends knew him so he joined us. Dude and I totally hit it off. He was funny and attentive and interesting. I was very attracted to him. When it was time for my friends and I to head home
Dude told me he'd like to see me again. (Wow, this had better be a damn good post...I just knocked over my water bottle while typing...and then knocked over the paper towel holder trying to mop it up. I'm kind of laughing a lot right now.) I was pleased and we arranged to meet for coffee (or hot chocolate) the next day. I told him when I got out of class and where I'd be on campus. He promised he'd see me there. I believed him.

I sat outside the Student Union Building for almost an hour past the time we'd said we'd meet before I realized he wasn't coming. I was really embarrassed. I felt stupid. It was a horrible feeling. I went to bed early that night and lost myself in a good book.

Around 9:30 my phone rang. It was him. We hadn't exchanged numbers the night before so I wasn't expecting to hear from him ever again. I asked him, a little snippily, where he'd been. He paused and asked me, very calmly, where I'd been. I was confused and told him I had waited half an hour (not wanting him to know how pathetic I'd been) and he hadn't shown up at the S.U.B where we'd said we'd meet. He told me that he'd waited an hour at the pub where we were supposed to meet and it was ME who hadn't shown up.

We'd both turned up for our date, just at two separate locations. I was relieved. So was he. I'd been stood up and had written him off as a jerk. He'd been stood up and had tracked down one of the girls he'd seen me at the party with (a mutual friend of the guy who was leaving) and had asked her to give him my number. Luckily she did and we set up a date for the very next day. It was a great date and I was impressed that he'd gone out of his way to find me after knowing me for less than three hours. It was an excellent way to start out a relationship. It was an excellent relationship. One of my favourites. (Guys, you need to go after what you want. It's worth it.)



So. I'm pretty lucky. I've never actually been stood up.



Oh, and in case you were wondering? He knew. He really, really knew.
I'll be back later today. Right now I'm just kind of sad that Steve Irwin isn't around anymore.

Sunday, 3 September 2006

To The Fates


I guess this job change situation is stressing me out more than I thought.

This week, I nearly missed getting my car insurance renewed because I left it to the last minute... which happened to be a long weekend and I never leave things until the last minute.

This week, I left my purse in a restaurant. I have never before, in my life, left my purse anywhere.

This week, I've tripped down stairs and spilled things that weren't really spillable. I've forgotten more things than I can remember. (Heck, my parents needed a ride to the airport on Saturday morning and I had to ask them to email me Friday night to make sure I'd remember even though I had already written myself a bunch of reminders. And then I set two alarms, just in case.)

And today? I nearly walked into a door leaving Mac's because I assumed it was an automatic door. It isn't. It never has been. I've used that door a lot.

And I just this moment accidentally deleted half of this post. Somehow.

So. Fates? Universe? Powers that Be? Hear me out here:

Now is not a great time to send me a Mr. Perfect. I'd probably spill wine over him or lock my keys in the car on a date or something. Could we just hold off on any hunky guys you were going to send my way right now? I really can't handle anything else to worry or stress out about. Maybe wait a month or two? Okay?

Sigh.



I'm going to go eat chocolate now.

Why Me? Why?

There is another huge, unsquishable bug in my apartment. I WATCHED it fly over the bug screen and somehow manage to drop in the space between the screen and window. I can't get rid of it and don't exactly know where it is now. It may have left, but it may also be under my couch. I'll have to find out eventually. But for now, I'm going to hang out with my laptop and panic a little.

I Am So Smart! S m r t!

So there was this really really creepy bug with big wings that got into my apartment last night and starting trying to attack me by flapping around in the light next to me.

I couldn't touch it, obviously, but I also couldn't squish it. It would have made too much of a mess. It was too big and flippy-aroundy and icky creepy for me to help it gently to the window with a book or magazine like I'd usually do with a fly or wasp or something. So I strategized.

I turned off the light it was flapping against and turned on the one in the kitchen. Freaky bug moved to the overhead light in kitchen. So next, I turned off the light in the kitchen and turned on the one by the door. Bug eventually moved to trying to bonk through that light. And then? Well, then, my genius was revealed. I opened the door out of my place and turned off the last light in my place.

It was kind of embarrassing when my upstairs neighbour and his girlfriend came by and saw me sitting in the hallway outside my dark apartment.

But hey, at least the bug's gone, right?

*Pout*

It really sucks when your email account stops working over the long weekend because it seems there's no one around who'll be able to help you.

Saturday, 2 September 2006

I Hate Being Single

There are a few things I miss about not having a significant other in my life. I miss the cuddling and intimacy of course, (duh) but that's not all.

I miss having someone to watch scary movies with. I miss someone to turn to when a freaky bug gets into my apartment. I miss having someone who'll check the air pressure in my tires and give me a backrub.

Most of the time I'm ok with missing all of these things. But today? Today I got a real slap in the face from the Universe. An unnecessary reminder that there is only one of me.

You see, when you're single, you don't have enough towels to put them in a load of their own, so you have to put your towels, nay, towel in with your other laundry.

And when you put your towel (noun. singular) in a load of darks that include some of your favourite black shirts, the towel (just one of them) might just make little fluffies all over your favourite black shirts. And that will make you curse the fates that have made you single at this exact moment because now everything has towel fluff on it.

*Shakes fist at sky* Curse you towel fluff! We can't all be married, you know.

Colour in the City


A couple of weeks ago, a buddy and I (Hi buddy!) went to see the City and Colour show in Centennial Square. It was a pretty cool show. I'm really liking this guy's music and he was great to watch. It takes a lot to be able to hold a crowd when you're just one guy. And he managed. Beautifully.

But that's not the point.

The point is, while waiting for the show to start, I wrote a horror movie. Or, maybe it was more of a thriller. Yeah, definitely a thriller. Except, I didn't exactly write an entire movie... but I did write maybe two minutes of one. I know it won't seem very cool once I try to explain it, but trust me it's cool.

See, as we were sitting there we noticed that there were quite a few people wearing green. ( I like to keep myself entertained while I'm waiting so I notice things. Sometimes they're weird. But it's fun. Don't judge me harshly people. I'm only a little crazy. ) As it got closer to show time there were a significant number of people in green. They were selling green t-shirts... people had come to the show wearing green... there was green everywhere. And here's where the movie comes in:

Our hero is at a concert of some sort. The camera pans over the crowd. You notice that there's a lot of green in the crowd. As Hero looks at the crowd everything goes blurry. The people in the crowd stretch out and up, all bright light. There's a humming noise that overtakes the buzz of the crowd. As Hero tries to clear his (her?) vision, some people in the crowd start coming back into focus. It's the people wearing green and no one else. Anyone not in green is still facing away from Hero and is little more than a black shadowy figure. As they become clearer, the people in green turn towards Hero. They look at him and it gets weirdly quiet just before they all tell him ... "Run!" And then all hell breaks loose.

It's SO cool in my head and if I could, I'd make a bazillion dollars making this the coolest movie ever. But I nearly failed the semester in University where our writing class focussed on scripts and plays and screenwriting. (Um, I may have ended up nearly failing the entire writing class.. I can't remember. I didn't know what degree to get so I just took any 100 level courses I could get my hands on. It was a little messy.) So I won't.


Anyway. . . go get yourself some City and Colour to listen to.


Um...purchase it or... uh... download it legally from the iTunes Music Store or another reputable site. That's what I meant.

(Adjusts tinfoil hat and laughs nervously, glancing around to see if the RIAA is listening.)



Oh, and when you're googling this guy? Please note the "u" in colour. Because a proud Canadian makes me proud too. : )

Friday, 1 September 2006

P.S.

Look! My archives have two months now! How adorable is that???

My Blender is Like a Relationship

I have this blender. I bought it to make protein shakes. And Margaritas. It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't expensive either. I like it. It has a handy function that lets you dispense the drink you've made into your glass one handed. But it's not perfect.

If you put it together wrong, it completely fucks up. It leaks. Everywhere. It makes you swear a lot because you now have to clean up AND you still don't have your drink because it's now all over the counter and floor and possibly in the drawer a little bit, you'll have to check.

You have to work really hard at putting it together correctly. Sometimes it's really frustrating and you just want to take it back to the store and buy a new one, one without so many parts, one that just works already! Consistently! Sometimes it jams up a little and doesn't work as well as it should. But that's usually because you've tried something different and the experimenting has gotten in the way of the blades, or the spout, or something else you would have known about if you'd bothered to read the instructions and find out what you're not supposed to do. But if you're patient, and walk away from it when it's really annoying, and not fitting back together properly, and come back when you're calm? It works really well. In fact, it's awesome. Easy to use, quick to clean.

But I rarely read instructions. I'm not good with being patient. And I get frustrated when things don't work smoothly and easily every time.

My blender and I, we get along just fine. If I take time and stay calm when I'm cleaning it and putting it back together, it's fine. If I do the things that I know work and avoid the things that gum it up, it works. If I don't compare it to the fancier, shinier models in the stores, I'm happy. If I walk away when I'm frustrated and come back when I'm calm, I can make it work without leaking. My blender does what I need it to do. It's just not perfect.

My blender is like a relationship: Sometimes frustrating, needs patience, not perfect. Often rewarding.

Once you accept all these things about your blender and your relationship? It's great! You can live happily ever after.

(Or, you can go splurge on a super expensive shiny stainless steel model and discover that you miss the old one terribly but now you can't have it back because you gave it away to someone and aren't they so happy together now and you never knew what you were missing but damn. . . the new one does make a good Bellini)
Please don't steal stuff from here, it's not nice. But leave a comment, why don't cha? And drink more water. It's good for you.

P.S. If you think you know me? You probably don't. If you're sure you know me? Pretend you don't. I'll never admit I know what you're talking about anyway.

P.P.S. All this stuff is copyright from then til now (Like, 2006-2016 and then some.) Kay? Kay.