Bored..... bored, bored, bored, bored. Bored.

When I got up this morning from my fitful slumber on the couch due to my unstoppable coughing fits, I noticed something: it was actually cool. The a/c hadn't come on for hours so far as I could tell and there was no residual sweat in all those spaces you feel it when the humidity is so bad you want to kill and no jury in the land would convict you. It felt like fall.

Yes, the march of the seasons waits for no sunbather. Now, I know it's just a preview and that tomorrow the goddamn humidex will read 45C, but a respite is a respite. I sat in the tea room in front of the window and vaguely wondered if I should get up to retrieve a fleece or a cardigan; it was wonderful. Coffee or tea tastes better when you wrap your hands around the mug to appreciate the warmth, things smell crisper and you can almost hear the kiddies whining about having to get back to schedules and prep reading and bedtimes this week in anticipation of September 7. It is good.

I called Ms. Branch Manager at The Agency this morning to check out the goings on in the world of the employed. The 'amazing' contract still hasn't been signed, so I remain trapped in limbo. She once again offered me bank/call center work, and I once again politely refused. This however will change once I cannot pay the electric bill or the cable bill or the (heavens forfend!) Internet bill. And she knows it. She's just drooling to send me out on two-and-three-day jobs where I never get to know the people or the office or the computer and I make all of $9/hour if I'm lucky. That's their bread and butter and when I first approached them I, in all my cocky glory, was positive they would see my credentials and talk with my wonderful self and see my test scores and place me permanently inside of a week. So let me just say up front that the cold water of not being wanted for anything besides drone work was a bit of a shock. Still, I persevere.

The Boy took me out to lunch at The Mandarin when he heard the bleak employment news. I avoided carbs for the first three minutes, but then proceeded to go mental at the sushi table. And with the garlic bread and the breaded scallops. The scallops weren't as great as I remembered, which was when it occurred to me that I might actually be developing a distaste for the breaded, dipped, fried and/or junk foody offerings in life. Which is cool, dude.

Now I yearn for a Canada Dry to ease the fire in my belly from eating stuff I'm no longer used to. Damn the sugar; this day's a waste anyway. I'm going to watch dvds and drink my soda and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

The demon whiskey

Last night, I went out. It was my usual once-a-month Thursday thang on the patio at The Keg. This particular location used to be a train station and they went to great expense to change it into the coolest of 50's-era lounges. There's a picture above the leather couches of one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen; if I could have a do-over, I would so totally be this woman. (I must snap a pic of her the next time I go out).

The patio, it also rocks. Our server Robyn is getting to be our regular wench, so she takes good care of us. I imbibed way too much for someone who is the DD, but it was on Mr. PW, so it's all good. We planned on making our way to the pub for the final two sets of Our Band so I figured I would burn off the alcohol riverdancing. (I did). The problem with my drinking habits are they still stem from that high school mentality of 'drink what's put in front of ya!' So I started with a glass of Stoli and iced tea, moved on to the more familiar Guinness with assorted iced Bucca and Crispy Crunch shots, then I accidentally pounded back half of Patti's CC & Coke when she urged me to try it and tell her if the mix was diet or not. Blerg. Thank heavens I didn't succumb to that shot of Jameson's PW put in front of me, evil man. He will be punished at a future time of my choosing, be sure.

Still in all, I managed to keep my extreme coolness about me. I was even approached by a young cutie to dance with him to a Barry White tune. He went on and on (and on) about how it was 'concentrated sex, man!', to which I simply nodded and smiled. I kept the overt sexuality reigned in for fear of permanently scarring the poor lad, but enjoyed the dance nonetheless. The aforementioned riverdancing has caused my calves to become two inches shorter today when you factor in all the knots that materialized overnight. Alas, I am not as young and resilient as I used to be.

I even passed over the traditional late-night poutine feast (necessary grease to help with absorption...it's all very scientific) since I'd stayed behind to help the band pack up and talk to Greg about his recent wedding. I was dismayed that he hadn't listened to my loving, sisterly advice about the nuptuals. Months ago I had stood on the bar's footrail, looked him straight in the eye and fairly hollered,

"Don't do it! For the love of all that is holy, RUN!"

He'll remember our little talk later when he's chewing off his arm to get away and smile a little smile, I'm sure.

So today I'm sore, dehydrated and this Venti Soy Tazo Chai is only comforting me about 65%. Maybe we should make these little romps a once-every-six-weeks thing....

I'm no Twinkie, yo!

Seriously, I'm letting the sheer magnitude of stuff that happened over JCon weekend intimidate me. ME! And that, I cannot have.

So I'm going to go the way of Jason and break it down into manageable parts.

Starting today. I will. No, I will.

And Coleen? We have to talk about those cigarettes you gave me. I think I've found one more reason we are sisters who were separated at birth. That, and the fact that we're both smart and pretty and have the most adorable voices and accents. Except you got the hawt gene, bitch, and I think you're done with it so give it over!

Okay, more later. Really. Don't give up on me now!

I just lost an entry that was fab-oo.

I suck.

It's early and I'm all packed and ready to catch a cab. I want to wake them and tell them how much I appreciate them putting me up but can't bring myself to do it.

I also want to eat that little baby's head. Trust me, when you're lying there staring at it, only then can you truly understand how an action like that can't possibly be wrong.

Wish me safe travel.
M.

Countdown

Less than an hour to go before I am away to my pre-interview. I must dazzle and impress and right this minute all I want to do is toss my cookies.

Nerves, you see.

I fear I'll show up at Cindy's office all ashen, with bloodshot eyes and a shaky constitution. I will leave a thin film of nervous sweat on her palm when I attempt to shake her hand with some semblance of confidence and she will spend the rest of our time together finding ways to wipe it off without seeming to be obvious. She will know within the first five minutes that I do not possess the ability to act in any sort of managerial capacity and when I leave, she will make a short notation on the upper right corner of my resume. "NSM" or some sort of brief code that tells the other recruiters in the office to keep on moving as they approach my file in future.

My body is poised to betray me yet again.

I'm putting this here because no one ever looks anyway.

I am sitting at the computer at my friend's house, wiping away tears and trying not to heave. We just had what I would categorize as the Second Strangest conversation I think I've ever had with him. And I'm freaking out.

Other than Lisa, who's been my friend for 29 years (since our eyes met across a crowded classroom in Grade Three), he has the record for putting up with my shit the longest. Coming in at 18 years ladies and gentlemen, S.!

He's always been funny and intelligent and a great storyteller but he's also been full of shit in that adorable way our best friends sometimes are. He changes the rules of life to suit his needs and won't take help from me even if I twist his arm waaay up around the back of his neck. He's stubborn and deceives himself and won't listen to the woman's perspective even when he goes out of his way to ask for it. And yet, I still have much love for this doofus.

So he's standing at the sink, shaving his forest o' stubble and I'm sitting on the floor watching like the weirdo that I am, when he happily tells me he's been out on a few dates lately. Since all I ultimately want is his happiness, I nod my head and smile. Then he goes on to say that he's uncomfortable with her being a few years older than he, so they will probably wind up good friends, which is really what he's capable of right now anyway. He then proceeds to tell me last week in his laundry room he was struck down out of the blue by a wave of regret and pain over the 'indifferent' breakup with his partner of three years over a year ago. I never liked her, and the way she treated him was shameful. Now she's got him walking around mooning over her, trying to figure out how to stop the pain and not wanting to pursue the issue to help him deal and move on because it might cause her more pain. Fuck.

He had the nerve to look me straight in the eye and ask me, "How do you get your heart back when you've given it away to someone who doesn't want it?"

May I stop right here to ask a simple question?

Just how stupid and unseeing are men, anyway?

I stared right back and said calmly, "If you can figure that out, let me know, won'tcha?"

Then it occurred to me that he was either purging his inner angsty turmoil to someone he knew he could trust or he was trying to tell me something about our dynamic that he was too pussy to tell me straight. And he had one foot out the door while he was holding this conversation, so much the better for a quick getaway. Bastid.

I mean, holy shit on a cracker.

I think we need a break.

August Long-ass Weekend

It's the last weekend before crushing unemployment hits again, and I'm feeling at loose ends.

Friday night was a bust. The Boy managed to catch a piece of flying metal with his cornea and came home from work early. I had to leave work early to take him to the doctor to get fitted for a pirate-like eye patch. I took advantage of what was left of the workday to pop over to the Passport Office and drop off my application. They accepted the horrific pictures I provided (yay) and charged me an additional $10 to guarantee it would be done three days before my trip to the con. We picked up three newpaper pages' worth of the best fish and chips in town and headed over to his mother's house for dinner. It's always boiling hot there during the summer, since she decided some time ago that air conditioning is harmful to seniors. She grudgingly let us put in a window unit, but in the baaaack room, away from where the humans sit. Apparently, her seedings and ferns enjoy the coolness. I usually hunker down on the front stoop, praying for any kind of breeze and rolling my Canada Dry can over my face in a vain attempt at aiding my heat stroke.

Saturday was better, except for the part where Murphy snuck into my room around 0400 and stuck his wet nose on the bottom of my outstetched foot. He wanted to go out or eat or both, I really wasn't sure. And at that time of the morning, I also had a big helping of 'didn't give a rat's ass' for him. I halfheartedly kicked him away, but found out later The Boy had let him out for a monstruous pee. I know absolutely I would have walked in it on the way to the kettle if someone hadn't given him some relief, that's just my luck.

I headed out for Mom and Dad's just before lunch, stopping on the way for a Venti Soy Chai and a flax bagel with sausage, egg and vegetable light cream cheese. Mmmm. The sun was shining and I didn't encounter one single asshat driver during my half hour journey. Our job for the day: to go through the last of Gran's things. It's been almost four months and we had whittled it down to two suitcases of assorted minutiae, some of which I took. After that, it was off to town! I had to finish up my "26 things" project and Mom was willing to lend her eye to the cause. She was grumpy for the first half hour because she couldn't get the idea of looking at the prompt words in as many different ways as possible; she always leaned toward the obvious. Once she got the hang of it, she was pointing out things all over the place!

We got all but two shots and headed home. I had about ten million more freckles from romping around in the sun but I love the feeling of 90% accomplishment so the freckles mattered less than usual. We made some tea and partook of rhubarb muffins and raspberry turnovers, then I waggled the cribbage board in front of her. She was tired, but in the spirit of the wonderful day we were having, she acquiesced. She also beat my ass four games to one, but I never really care about the final outcome; it's the playing I enjoy.

I rolled in the laneway around 9:30 and promptly fell asleep on the couch. Good day, good day.