I Broke My Blogger

It all started Monday morning when I woke up feeling like someone had stuck a wire coat hanger down my throat and used it to strip the inner layer.

No, that's not true.

It probably goes back to the Wednesday night before that when I became intimately involved with the bedding of a woman who hadn't previously slept indoors in months and had the word COMMUNICABLE practically tattooed across her forehead in perma-dirt.

Or, really, it can probably be traced back to the unholy hours of the Sunday night\Monday morning before that, when my friend Cynthia had to bust me out of a room where I was being held captive by a mad black woman threatening to bust a cap in my ass.

Well, let's just say that trouble has been brewing for a while.

Anyhoo. The painful strep-ness of my throat was evident from the moment I woke up on Monday, but I raked a comb through my thinning hair and rigged a belt through the loops of pants that have grown way too big for me during the past few months, took a 3-hour bus ride into work where I struggled to stay on my feet for 12 hours and 'counsel' women with problems that sometimes actually seem trivial in comparison to my own (shame on me!), then took another 3 hour public transit joy ride back to the couch I am presently sleeping on and slept maybe 4 hours before repeating the process, only this time with an ear infection, a sinus headache, and a sty to boot.

And then I got a chest cold. And I probably should have called in sick right there and then, but I thought if I could just get through this week, I'd have enough money so that the next time I got sick, I could, you know, maybe afford penicillin. So I made a steady diet of Benylin and Halls and somehow survived the week (fyi: subway + migraine = worst thing ever) and when I got home, knees shaking, I was ready to collapse from relief and exhaustion and I ached for deep, uninterrupted sleep.

But the phlegm in my lungs had other ideas, so I spent the night being racked by coughs, and any time I attempted to get horizontal I'd be punished with a lack of oxygen, and I don't know about you, but I find being unable to breathe to be pretty uncomfortable.

So then I got the bright idea to be productive and I forgot to try not to die. I stacked some pillows behind my back, bent my knees and with the laptop balanced on my thighs, I thought I might finally be able to write a word or two to say hello to you all. And then I sneezed, propelling the cursed laptop right into my noggin (how on earth do corners always crash directly into your eye?) and in a flash of pain and potential blindness, I had two incongruent thoughts:

1. Emergency! Wake Jason!
2. Holy fuck this is embarrassing! Do not under any circumstances wake Jason or admit to anyone that this has happened!

Well, you can guess which one won out. He brought me ice and Tylenol, and a soup bowl full of Benylin and made soothing noises, and politely locked himself in the bathroom so I wouldn't hear his fit of laughter (but he didn't turn on the tap so I heard it anyway) and now I have an egg on my temple, a bit of a black eye, a bit of a swollen lip, and after all that violence I didn't even knock the damn cold out of me.

So you see why I cannot possibly write a post today, don't you?

Forgiveness?

Serendipity wears a badge.

Erratic posting once again as my life is once again thrown into chaos, but let me ask you this in the meantime:

If 911 sends you the same police officer 3 times in 2 weeks, is this coincidence or is the universe sending me some kind of signal? And if I buy him a donut, is that considered flirting? And would you go with a cruller or maple dip?

Bet You Can't Have Just One.

Man on the street: Hey pretty lady, what are you so smiley about?

Me: I just had 15 orgasms.

Man on the street: Oh.




If I had known how quickly that shuts up men, I would have been using it years ago!

The Best of Peter Frampton

The best offer I ever refused: When I was in high school, a man 12 years my senior proposed to me in a Tim Hortons. We were not dating or otherwise romantically involved (although I may have been schtupping his best friend). His ex-fiancee-turned-lesbian was squatting in his house and refusing to vacate. His life was a mess and apparently I could turn things around for him. I had no idea how to respond to such a question, but I found the strength to break his heart. I was never in any danger of accepting, but I sometimes like to wonder how different my life would be if I had said yes.





The best gift I ever gave: Hm. Well, I made my mother-in-law cry when I gave her a scrapbook about her son. I made my friend cry when I gave her a baggie full of pre-rolled joints. I made my mother furrow her brow when I gave her a hand-painted toilet seat. But I think the best would be the night Jason walked me to my class (criminology) and before slipping in the hall, I handed him a card. It wasn't a special occasion, but the card told him that gifts awaited him under the bed, and to open the big one first. It was the highly coveted PS2 which he hadn't even dreamed of getting his hands on, along with several games to get him started. I put beer and treats in the fridge and left a note to call his friends and not to bother picking me up from class - I knew he'd be busy. By the time I got home that night, he already had a serious callous going, but he still paused the game to give me a hug.



The best lie I ever told: I don't know how my bra got in his car.

The best skirt I ever misplaced: It was a black Tommy Hilfiger mini skirt, and my sister bought it for me a size too big so it hung on my hips instead of my waist. I loved that skirt. It prompted one boy to observe you wear the shortest skirts of anyone I know (though I was actually wearing a different one of decent length the day a man stopped me on the street and asked how much I charged for blowjobs). And then one day...poof. Well, okay, there was no poof. The vanishing was absurdly quiet. I held hope in my heart for months that it would be found alive and well, but it never was.



The best movie I never saw: Star Wars, hands down. Any of them. It really infuriates people.

The best funeral I ever crashed: I was 9, I think. Some old lady died. I didn't know her, but I was staying with my aunt and she took me into the bosom of grieving strangers and left me to my own devices. The family crowded around the corpse to pose for photographs. Some of them said cheese, others made attempts at solemnity. One little girl sat cross-legged on top of the coffin. I remember there being salmon sandwiches of a suspiciously vibrant pink colour cut into impossibly tiny triangles. I didn't eat them. Back at the house, a woman I didn't know said that "the kids" should go swimming, and she thrust at me a green bikini of unknown origins. It was too big and the pool was the last place I wanted to be, but I hadn't been given a choice. I stood on the diving board seething, and then leapt in feet first, somehow managing to lose my ballooning top in the process. I covered my baby boobies and tread water like crazy until someone I'd never seen before and luckily never saw again handed me a towel and I made my escape.

You'll never guess what I had down my throat today.

Me: I swalled a bug at Glencairn today.

Him: The subway station?

Me: Yes. It was a big one.

Him: What where you doing all the way out there?

Me: I walked out there to take the subway, obviously. But you're missing the point here: I swallowed a bug the size of a golfball. I felt it hit the back of my throat. He left quite an aftertaste.

Him: But Glencairn is way north! How many perfectly good subway stations did you walk past to get to it? You must have walked for hours!

Me: Gah - you see these two big meaty things hanging off my torso? They're legs. They're made for walking. So I walked.

Him: Gah yourself - you know those little brassy coins in your purse? They're subway tokens. Guess what those are for?

Me: Oh, I quit.

Dear Lace Hipster Undies:

Where have you been all my life?????

The illusion of cutesy butt cheeks is finally mine!!!!