Comrade Autumn

Despite the fact that I have not slept since yesterday afternoon and cannot feel most of my extremities, I've had a pretty darn good day. 24 hours even. I feel that if I were to instigate an uprising today, I would have followers. This could just be the sleep deprivation talking though. Or maybe I hit my head while pole-dancing last night?

Thank god it's not a leap year.

I believe that February is the most sentimental of months. And I believe that sentimentality is the most dangerous of emotions. You can cry and rage and scream and fight and love and feel silly. But with sentimentality... it's almost worse than regret because it makes you wish for something, to have something back that you can never have. It's like a sense of false hope that leads you to believe that the good you once had is somehow possible to hold on to. And that memory is enough to hold on to it. Sentimentality does not take into account the impossible. And that's just depressing as hell.

Tomorrow I plan to bake cookies and spend the afternoon drinking ice wine and watching porn bloopers with someone who will make me laugh. And I will count down the days until this goddamn month is over.

Party like it's 1996

Happy new year people. My 2007 is off to a slow and agonizing start. Christmas came and went. I worked throughout and my heart just wasn't in it. I didn't even put up my decorations or tree. Which is weird for me. I also didn't go home for the holidays - first time in 25 years. Which is also weird for me. But it was quiet in a good way. Except on Christmas eve when I started calling bars to see if any of them were open. (I've been reading a lot of Bukowski lately.)

Best gift: my Rolling Stones ticket -framed in black suede and red metal - so hot!
Most practical gift: a stack of cardboard boxes and a moving dollie.

Best intentions for a gift: I was going to give my mum a framed picture of me from the staff Christmas party - I'm so rarely in a dress and all done up, I thought she'd like it. However, it has been established that I am a vampire and do not actually appear on film. No one has a picture of me! I even put a notice up in the staff room! I remember posing for a million photos... where did they all go?! I'm hoping that people are just being reluctant to give up their pix because they have all devoted a shrine to me... but in all honesty, I'm usually the goofy looking one in photos - my coworkers might just be sparing my feelings? Meh.

I was really looking forward to New Year's OH! CAT! JESUS!

I'll get back to new year's in a second! The funniest thing just happened! This afternoon around 3pm I was packing some things up and loading them into my truck to take over to my new place. I had my apartment door open and a little orange cat ran past me down the hallway. I thought it might have gone into my apartment, but I looked everywhere and couldn't find it, so I thought it had just run back upstairs. All afternoon I've been snuffling away and sneezing and coughing. and Jazz is sniffing at the tv of all godforsaken things and I can't figure out why. At supper time, a note was slid under my door asking if anyone had seen a cat in the building, it was missing from an upstairs apartment. Now here it is - 8:30 at night and I'm on the phone and I keep hearing this squeaking noise. At first I thought it was just the humidifier, but I glance over at the tv and there's a little head staring at me - squeaking. The damn thing had been in my apartment all day! And I hate cats! And it peed on my floor! Silly bastard. Scared the bejesus out of me. Thought I was going mental.

Ok. Enough distractions. Back to New Year's. I planned on doing nothing. Go to bed early. Wake up and fly out to Los Angeles to meet my mum and sister in Anaheim. We were going to stay at the Disneyland Paradise Piers Hotel! And go to Disneyland! This was supposed to be MY Christmas break. I'd worked hard all December. I was really looking forward to going. 7:30pm on New Year's Eve, my brother calls to inform me that he wasn't able to take care of Jazz. I scramble for the next hour trying to find someone to take him for the next 4 days - but no luck. It's a holiday, so no kennels are open - not that I could afford one anyway. So I call Mum and Alex to let them know I won't be going after all. I'm so incredibly disappointed. My brother does this to me all the time. Leaves things to the very last second, so I'm stuck. This was one thing I was really, really looking forward to, I needed the break, it was all I could talk about for weeks. And instead, I spend it picking up shifts at work because I have nothing better to do.

So, New Year's Eve I went on a high school flashback rampage. Met some friends at a bar, drank way too much, made out with some random guy on the dance floor, passed out in the cab going home, crashed on a friend's couch and puked at Phil's Diner the next morning. Top of the Pops, Autumn. I've been sulking ever since. Of course my whole evening was well documented. I can't find pictures of me looking nice at the Christmas party, but if you'd like to see me passed out or making out with said dance floor guy, join the ranks of most of my coworkers - most of whom have seen these photos of shame. I gave the dance floor guy my phone number with every intention of avoiding his phone calls, now it's three days later and I'm all depressed that he hasn't called! I didn't even want him to call in the first place! I guess I'm looking for some sort of vindication. Ahh... to be 15 again.

I shouldn't exaggerate so much though. The whole night wasn't a complete waste. I met a friend of a friend who had brought his deaf girlfriend with him. She was really nervous because it is so hard for her to communicate with people. She was so stoked when I told her I knew sign language! We actually had a whole conversation in sign language and I interpreted for the others- it was really rad. The next best thing about New Year's was that the proceeds went to a good cause. The Animal Rescue Foundation (ARF) made the money off the evening, which made me feel a lot better than paying for some chick to get her boobs done at some skeezy night club. So it all works out in the end.

I've spent my week stuck here in Calgary working and starting to move to the new place. Choosing to move over a month is the best decision I have ever made. I'm really going to miss my apartment and this neighborhood, but it's way too expensive. It'll be a sea-change going from here to what basically is a basement suite in the hood, but I'll adjust. It's got a lot of positives - it's close to work, I don't have to pay for laundry, I have a dishwasher (you have no idea how stoked I am about this - I have never had a dishwasher!), and a fireplace. It's two bedrooms and 1 and a half bathrooms for about half what I am paying now, so I think this will be worth it in the long run. I won't feel like I'm living in a shoebox anymore. Jazz the Amazing Wonder Weiner Dog is super-stoked about the huge backyard. I think he's already marked his territory like 5 times over! There's a huge firepit, I can't wait to have people over in the summer! I feel like I've really lucked out.

That's about all the excitement for now, this week Peter Hook from New Order is in town. Hopefully I can make the show. I would love to hear him play "Temptation". And Van Morrison is coming in the spring! How rad would that be?! But I digress, time for bed. Oh yeah! And a big welcome to the world to my newest little friend Jackson Hartley Fox! I can't wait to meet you!

Things I have learned in the past 24 hours:

1. Should I ever get the notion to wear high heels again - I might as well start practicing the traditional art of foot binding instead.

2. Office Christmas parties are just like the motherfucking prom. And that's not a good thing.

And now for your moment of zen...

#4 in the red.
(It's Doyle, not Doyal.)
I'm not altogether sure who won this fight,
but I swear this does not run in the family...

That kid is BACK on the escalator!

I can't fugging stand days like this - when it is my my only day off from the airport and they just NEED me to come into the bookstore - but when I get here there are the employee to customer ratio is approximately 4 to 0.5 - why do I need to be here?! I've retreated to my dungeon and I should do some paperwork. But I finally have shit to rant about so I might as well blog instead. I realize it's been a lifetime since I wrote last. But Telus and I are having a love-hate relationship and whenever I think about something clever to write, my internet goes down. Fuckers.

Anyhoo... there is a girl I work with at the airport who is friendly and a hard worker and generally pleasant to be around. But whenever a guest brings a dog in a kennel to be checked onto the aircraft, she insists on chatting with the dog for ages until the baggage handlers come and pick the kennel up. Obviously we're not allowed to take the dog out of the kennel, but she is constantly stick her fingers through the wire doors of the kennels - I guess so the dog will lick her fingers instead of getting all antsy in the kennel. I have absolutely nothing against this girl, but damn if I don't want every dog that comes through to chow down on one of her fingers. I'm not generally a sadistic person, so obviously this says quite a bit about my subconscious... it's nothing personal, I just think it's stupid to stick your fucking fingers into some random dog's kennel - especially when that dog is already pissed off that he's stuck in the fucking thing and about to be put in the belly of an aircraft for 3 hours. Alright, I'm an asshole. I get it. But if I get to learn my lessons the hard way, why can't everyone else?

It was good to get that out of my system. It's been bothering me all week.

Now onto more pressing issues: this weekend is my first ever major corporate Christmas party. I feel like I'm going to the fucking prom, everyone is so worked up about it! One can't help but obsess. I'm pretty sure I've got the high heel thing down now - unless it's all slippery cement in the Telus Convention Centre - then I'm screwed. I might as well bring crutches with me! Can anyone out there in blog land tell me the secret to applying eyeliner? Preferably so I don't stab myself in the retina? My cousin had to bail at the last minute - she was going to help me through all of my wardrobe, makeup and hair malfunctions - so now I'm going to be left to my own devices. Which - if you know me - you will know is not a good thing. Meh. As long as I'm not groped by some skeezy bigwig I'll be happy. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers on Saturday night. Ha ha!

Speaking of which - a coworker has got this great plan to set me up with one of her brother's friends - which sounded like a swell idea. Until she told me that he's studying to be a pastor. Christ. Now there's an accident waiting to happen! Could you imagine?! I dated a really religious guy once, I always felt so guilty because I thought I was such a bad influence on him - literally every night I would come home from seeing him and throw up. This is what happens when you are raised into Christianity - no matter whether you believe it or not anymore, you will ALWAYS FEEL GUILTY FOR EVERYTHING. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Fuckers.

I seem to be plagued by religion this week. Another coworker actually asked if I would like a "Keep the Christ in Christmas" sign to put on my lawn. Thankfully I don't have a lawn. What is it about me that seems to need saving?! I realize that I'm going to Hell in a handbasket, but can't someone be happy that I've just accepted that and therefore we can all move on? I just finished reading "Kensington Gardens" a novel by Rodrigo Fresan. In it, there is a character that says that the best decision a person can make in life is to sell their soul to the devil when they are a child. That way they get the best price for it. And an interesting life because they won't ask for the most mundane of exchanges.

Let us drop the subject of my eternal damnation for now. I'm much more interested in talking about this goddamn book - which is my official selection for the year of 2006. It (Kensington Gardens) has even knocked "Black Swan Green" by David Mitchell into 2nd place. I loathe people who mark pages and underline sentences in books. But this novel is overflowing with the most agonizingly fantastic prose - I've marked up the whole damn thing. It's the story of J.M. Barrie and Peter Pan, as told by a famous modern day children's book author. It is just so fucking good... I feel as though I should carry it with me all the time. I hope, I hope, I hope that more of his novels are translated into English soon.

Highlight of my week thus far: receiving a cooler full of deer and moose meat. Ironically from the same coworker who offered me the Jesus sign. I had no problem taking the meat. Apparently I look like I need to be saved and fattened up.

I wish it felt more like Christmas. Maybe because I'm not working in the bookstore so much this year - I don't get to hear the music or see the lights so often. I haven't even put my tree up yet. I'm not going home this year - which is fine with me, I'm almost looking forward to being on my own, but I'd hate for Christmas to become just another day of the week.

Ugh. 2 more hours. I'm soooooo bored. I just can't be left to my own devices for this long. Let's see if I can figure out how to post a YouTube video on here...

Oh no you didn't!

So Ralph Klein has decided to call down the thunder,
well he's gonna get burned.
This Saskatchewan rodent is gonna stick it to Ralph the Dog.
GO RIDERS!!!

And now for my next trick... it's the incredible shrinking kidney!

Alright, the rage has gone. The past few days have been pretty quiet and controversy free. For Halloween I dressed up as Bunny the Badly Dressed Golf Pro. Not very original, I know, but my first idea didn't pan out. I was going to glue half of a golf ball to my forehead, but finding half a golf ball is harder than I thought. And I have since learned that trying to saw round objects in half is never a good idea. So there you go. It was nice to be polyester-free for one day at work. No trick or treaters came around the apartment, which was sad, but sort of expected. I spent my evening researching children's gulags in Russia. Titilating stuff.

Two pieces of news have caught my eye this week. First, Gainer the Gopher is not allowed in McMahon stadium at Sunday's football game. The Stamps are one of the few CFL teams that does not allow the visiting team to bring their mascots to games. Even playoff games. Their reasoning? Because Sunday's game will be a 50/50 split of Riders and Stamps fans, Gainer the Gopher would likely incite a riot of some sort between the two. Because afterall, if his "DE" and "Fence" signs aren't a call for reckless violence to begin, I'm not sure what is. It appears that the Stamps feel that Rider fans are just a bunch of soccer hooligans in disguise - with a plush gopher as their ringleader. The Stamps also claimed that they didn't want Gainer to take the attention away from their own mascot - Ralph the Dog. I for one have never even seen Ralph the Dog at a Stamps game, and I've never known exactly what the symbolism of Ralph is. They've got the chick who rides around the stadium on the horse - where does Ralph fit in? I'm pretty sure the Stamps aren't a bunch of renegade Liberals and Ralph is actually a stab at Ralph Klein. (Although that would be hilarious.) Since all this Gainer furor has begun, the Stamps have since clarified that Gainer is not actually banned from McMahon Stadium, he just has to buy a seat like every other Rider fan. I will be glad to save him a seat.

In other news, Ralph Klein has purchased himself a $2.5 million dollar chair at Mount Royal College. In the media department no less. Because nothing increases the integrity of a post-secondary institution like having:
a) a politician running the media studies program
b) a man who has never graduated from a post-secondary institution teach at one
c) a man who reportedly plagiarized an entire term paper a few years back when he took a college-level course.

All I can say is thank god it's not the Justice Studies program he's taking the chair in - I would simply have to drop out. And live in a van by the river. Eating government cheese.

There is nothing I enjoy more than spending 3-4 hours in a waiting room.

What kind of asshole nurse tells you that you have "bad blood" and you have to wait an entire weekend to see your doctor to find out exactly what that means, only to discover that there was nothing wrong with your blood in the first place after spending the entire fucking evening in a waiting room to see said doctor and receive said results?