Well You Know Some Days Are Aces And Some Days Are Faces Well Some Days Are 2's And 3's

Today is a 2. Well, maybe a 3. It is Friday and the sun is shining. Throw in a Canucks victory tonight and I might even bump today up to a 4.

Shawn and I had big plans to change our food habits (both in the eating and preparing department.) Big plans that were derailed by one night. One night following a bad day that resulted in both of us feeling cranky and unappreciated. The combination of cranky + unappreciated is a pernicious one, made especially deadly when both of us feel that way. We were both very shouty last night is what I'm saying.

My blog is not a place for me to write a list of Shawn's flaws (because clearly last night was all his fault) (*sarcasm*) but it is a place where I strive for honesty. I read some blogs that are all sunshine! rainbows! unicorns! happyhappyhappy! and I wonder how honest those bloggers are being. I mean, really? You never fight? Everything is always perfect? I'm not judging them I just feel ... inadequate. I'm judging myself, I guess. It's silly. Shawn and I are both fiery people. We fight. We also love each other. It's just hard to remember the love bit when in the midst of a heated discussion about whose turn it is to unload the damn dishwasher (ps: it was his turn. Who ended up unloading it? Me. Who dramatically sighed and huffed her way through the entire process? Also me. I'm not proud.)

Jennie wrote a post this week that really struck a nerve with me. This in particular really made me think: "Every day I want to be better. He may not do the dishes, but he deserves that much from me." Last night I did not try to be better. Last night I fought with gritted teeth and sharp words.

It's difficult, sometimes, to see the big picture. I get tangled up in the here and now and when the here and now is arduous (like it was last night) I tend to think that it will always be arduous. It takes effort to pull myself out of the mire so I don't. I sit and I stew and I prove myself right. It's ridiculous and laborious and if I could think of any more "ous" words I would write them here. Strenuous? Ludicrous? Hilarious? I think it's pretty safe to say that I don't really know where I'm going with this post at this point and I should just stop typing.

Happy Friday, peeps! I hope that your weekend is all happyhappyhappy! with lots of sunshine! rainbows! and unicorns!

PS: Go Canucks!

Mesmerizing State Of The Art Caffeine

My shameful coffee secret and a successful resolution.

My April resolution was to stop buying coffeeshop coffee and I am happy to report that I won. I crushed my April resolution. It was no small feat, either. I was a daily coffeeshop patron. My name and drink were known at my coffeeshop. I honestly didn't think that I could make it through an entire month without buying coffee.

In order to explain how proud I am of successfully completing my April resolution, I need to confess my shameful coffee secret: I was a daily coffeeshop patron even though I have a perfectly good coffeemaker at home. Not only do I have a coffeemaker, I have an espresso machine. I have an espresso machine that sat, unused, on my counter for over two years while I paid $4 every day for a latte. Shameful! I was really intimidated by the espresso machine; I was afraid that I would break it if I used it. So I didn't use it. I'm not proud.

I am, however, proud that I conquered my fear of the espresso machine. Every day I make a frothy, caffeinated mug of magic and every day I feel happy that my shameful coffee secret is a thing of the past. I'm so happy with my April resolution that I'm making it part of my May resolution. I'm worried that I'll resort back to my lazy, coffeeshop ways if I don't have the power of the internet to shame me.

The other part of my May resolution is to give up pop and fast food completely. I don't consume a lot of either but I do enjoy a frosty Coke and a dirty cheeseburger every once in a while. Lately I've been using fast food as my go-to meal when I'm tired or cranky, which is so stupid because it only makes me more tired and much more cranky. I feel like removing fast food from my diet for a month will force me into being more organized about my meals. I do the majority of the cooking because Shawn hates it, which makes me a bit resentful during the week when we get home from work at the same time and I have to start making dinner while he gets to relax. Our plan is to work together to plan our meals so I feel less stressed about mid-week cooking. I love to cook when I have time to enjoy it but mid-week cooking is a chore. May is about making a positive change in our kitchen.

Choose The Highest Bidder Was My Answer When They Told Me I Was Up For Sale

Birthdays are a big deal to me. It's the one day a year that the people you love celebrate you. What's not to love about that? (I'll tell you what's not to love: when the people you love think that celebrating you means taking you on a dune buggy ride in the sand dunes. Ahem.)

Shawn's birthday is in five weeks and I don't know what to give him. He needs a guitar for recording his music but I know nothing about guitars and the fact that he's a lefty makes the selection a: more difficult because of the limited numbers of left-handed guitars and b: more expensive (because of the limited numbers of left-handed guitars. *sigh*) We've been talking about getting rid of the computer desk (and PC) in our den and hooking up a mac mini to our home theatre system in the living room. The problem with this scenario is that Shawn would have to pull all of his stuff out of the den and into the living room every time he wanted to record. I know my husband: once the stuff comes out of the den and into the living room, in the living room it will sit forever. The other option is a weekend trip. Air Canada is having a seat sale right now but it ends tomorrow so I need to make my decision today. I like the idea of a weekend trip but I'm hesitating because of the amount of work involved. I would need to book time off work (which is a hassle), I would need to get Shawn approved to take time off work, Shawn's passport expired months ago so that would need to be renewed if we went to the States, and I'd have to figure out puppy care. Also, Shawn is going away for the May long weekend (the weekend after his birthday) so it would probably be too much to go away on his actual birthday (and that kind of takes a bit of the shine off, doesn't it? Taking a birthday trip after your birthday?)

Peeps, I need your help. What should I give Shawn for his birthday? It's not a significant-number birthday so it doesn't have to be over the top but I do want it to be awesome.

An Old Piece Of Bacon Never Eaten By Elvis

If Rudy is reason enough to give up eating bacon, surely the mothereffing swine flu is an acceptable reason to resume eating bacon, yes?

Speaking of bacon, last night Shawn was telling me about a sex dream he had about one of our good friends (stick with me peeps, I've been in bed all week and have literally nothing to write about unless you're interested in hearing about daytime tv.) He thinks it's weird that he's had multiple (by multiple I don't mean nightly dreams, I mean he's had about 4 dreams in the 6 years he's known her) sex dreams about this woman even though he's not attracted to her. My argument is that if he's had multiple sex dreams about her, he must be attracted to her on some level.

Let me clarify something. When I say "my argument" I don't mean that we were arguing about the sex dream. The lady who starred in Shawn's dream is lovely and a good friend to me and gives me no reason to be insecure about her friendship with Shawn (and - despite the multiple sex dreams - Shawn gives me no reason to be insecure about his friendship with her.)

So I'm making my case about how his subconscious mind is obviously attracted to her and Shawn cuts me off with this gem:

"Hillary. You're bacon. I like bacon with other things, yes, but I also like bacon all by itself. Our friend is a tomato. I don't want just a tomato but put it with bacon and you've got a tasty sandwich."

I freaking love this guy.

And When I Get That Feeling

When I found out about my mom's busted pelvis, I told Shawn that we needed to find some cheeseburgers, stat. He then proceeded to sing a song (that he composed on the spot) called "Emotional Eating" sung to the tune of "Sexual Healing." I love that guy.

Day 11 of my month of photos:

Looking up at the Lookout at Harbour Centre through the open-air glass dome of Grant Thornton Place.

Get On The Snake Where You Never Will Believe

Stella has started doing this thing recently where she tries to press her face into our faces whenever we're lying down. I'd like to think that she's just being affectionate but there is a small part of me that thinks she's just measuring us to see if she can eat us (Dear Ben & Maxie: I forget which one of you told the story of the big snake measuring its owner so I'll blame both of you. I am still disturbed even though snopes proved you wrong. Thanks for that, jerks. Love Hillary.)

I love them.

Him too.

What I don't love is when someone dumps the clean laundry on the bed instead of folding it and putting it away and then someone else makes a bed out of my fresh, clean towels. Not mentioning any names.

The Main Thing That We Do Is To Rock Your Socks Off

Dear Shawn,

Twenty nine pairs of socks. What did you expect when you told everyone that you wanted new socks for Christmas?

Love Hillary

I Say Love It Is A Flower And You Its Only Seed

Last night was my company Christmas party.

I think my favourite part of the night was when the wife of one of my coworkers asked Shawn when we were going to have babies (because, you know, we've been married for a year and that's why people get married ... to have the babies.) He told her (and our entire table of twelve people) that I looked so good in my party dress that he was planning to go straight home to plant his seed.

That wasn't awkward at all.

I'll Kill Him With Karate That I Learned In Japan

The heat has officially left Vancouver and today is a gloomy, rainy Monday. That - and the limited sleep I got this weekend - has left me in a Friday Faff kind of mood.

* * * * *

Thank you for all your kind comments on my anniversary post. We had a great first anniversary. To kick things off, Shawn's Mom made us a fabulous barbecue dinner. On our actual anniversary, we had dinner at the Irish Pub where we got married and then went to the beach and ate cupcakes from the bakery where we got our wedding cupcakes. The next night, my mom and dad made us dinner. It was a bit odd - we were not expecting our families to participate in the anniversary celebrations - but very nice.

* * * * *

Shawn wants to shave Wolfgang's mohawk. I hid the clippers. It's a battle of wills.

* * * * *

I have decided not to part ways with my t-shirt collection. To celebrate, I wore this shirt to work on Friday:

* * * * *

I spent three hours at a farmers' market with my mom yesterday. Three hours is far too long to spend at a farmers' market, especially when you keep finding treats that you have to have. I came home with: ten pounds of blueberries, a giant bag of bell peppers, organic dog treats, paw balm for Wolfgang's cracked paws, a huge loaf of organic seed bread, a bottle of dried garlic, locally grown beets, and an awesome birthday present for Turtle that I can't reveal because she reads this blog. I could have spent hundreds of dollars. I am officially grounded from farmers' markets.

* * * * *

So. The reason I didn't get much sleep this weekend. I started taking karate (is it bad that I can't help but say it "kara-tay" like Ross?) My first class was Saturday morning and I spent the rest of the weekend in agony. My muscles HATE ME right now. I woke up at 4am on Sunday, writhing in pain from ROLLING OVER. I have the opportunity to go three times a week but I think I'm going to start off with once a week. At least until I stop wanting to die after each class.

I Never Thought I Could Love Anyone But Myself Now I Know I Can't Love Anyone But You

Dear Shawn,

One year ago, we did a little of this:

and a lot of this:

and a bit of this:

and, erm, just a little bit of this:

We laughed,

we cried,

we danced,

and at the end of the day we were married.

This past year has been a ride; we've had our ups and downs but I wouldn't change a thing. I love that you match my stubbornness and intensity; you don't let me stomp all over you and though it may not always seem like it, I do appreciate that you try to keep me steady. And I appreciate that you still love me when you fail to keep me steady.

You rock, dude. I hope our second year of marriage is as much fun as our first year.

Love, Hillary

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 10 & 11

Dear Shawn,

Happy 10th & 11th Monthiversary!

I skipped writing a 10th monthiversary post; not because I wanted to punch you in the ear but because things were going so well that I didn't want to jinx it.

I guess it's pretty easy to be married to someone when you're both in a tropical resort; there are no arguments over whose turn it is to cook or clean because it's all done for you; and someone leaves a chocolate on your pillow every night. (Note to future self: if times get tough, head to the Caribbean!)

While we were in Punta Cana, we kept hearing about the amazing sunrises. I really wanted to see one but we couldn't seem to pull ourselves out of our alcohol-induced sleep early enough. Until our last morning, when you set up a wake-up call for 5:30 and another for 5:45 and then forced me out of bed. Though it made me a bit stabby initially, I really appreciated the gesture. We sat on the deserted beach and watched the sun rise behind the shipwreck and my heart just about burst with shmoopiness.


And then we came home and returned to our daily routine. Less shmoopy, more normal (not that normal is a bad thing, it's just not as ... fun.)

We sold both of our cars and bought one to share. I was worried that sharing a car with you would be disastrous but in the last month having only one car has caused friction just once. We're doing a good job of compromising and I have to say, I'm proud of us. We're pulling off this whole grown-up thing quite well (or we're doing a good job of pretending to be grown-ups. Whatever.)

I can't believe I've been your wife for almost a year.

Love you, dude.

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 8 & 9

Dear Shawn,

Happy 9th Monthiversary!

I skipped writing an 8th Monthiversary post because I felt very stabby toward you during our 8th month of marriage. You started your new job and you hated it and it made you very difficult to live with. My job continued to grow more and more stressful and it made me very difficult to live with. And on top off all that, Wolfgang had surgery (I know it was routine surgery but that didn't stop me from fretting my fool head off) and you started your own audio video design / installation company. So. We kind of hated each other for a while there. Not true hate, mind you, but that horrible angsty hate where you're so mad at the other person but you still love them to bits and it eats you up inside because you don't want to feel bad for the jerkface who made you cry, you want to punch them in the ear. I'm happy to report that no ears were punched in our 8th month of marriage (I call that success!) I'm also happy to report that things have settled down somewhat. Life is still crazy (because it always is and you knew that before you married me so quit yer belly achin') but it's the good kind of crazy. The kind of crazy where we drink too much rum one night and end up playing rock-paper-scissors at 6am the next morning when the pups need to be let out and neither one of us feels able to stand up without vomiting. Good times.

Love you, dude.

I Have Been Ungrateful I've Been Unwise Restless From The Cradle Now I Realize It's So Hard To See The Rainbow Through Glasses Dark As These

Shawn and I didn't go on a honeymoon after our wedding last summer. There were a few contributing factors: we had a few out-of-town guests who we wanted to spend time with after the wedding (most notably, Shawn's dad and one of his oldest friends); close friends of ours were married four days after us and we wanted to attend their wedding; and after going to Mexico for Shawn's 30th birthday in May, we didn't have enough vacation time remaining to be able to go on the awesome Ireland/England honeymoon trip we dreamed of. The plan was that we would take our honeymoon in the spring of 2009. Which would be now.

Our Ireland /England honeymoon has been delayed yet again, most likely until mid-2010. I'm trying very hard not to be disappointed but I can't help it. I haven't been back to England since May 2007 and I miss it. I miss my friends. I miss London. I miss sitting in the pub all afternoon. I miss Jaffa Cakes and Twiglets and baked beans done right.

I'm trying hard to quiet my discontent. Our trip has been delayed because we're going to Mexico for Shawn's friends' wedding. I should be flattered that we've been asked to join them. I should be excited to spend a week in the sun with a great group of people. I shouldn't feel sad or, even worse, resentful. Don't get me wrong, I am happy and grateful that our financial situation is stable enough that we're able to take any holiday at all. I'm just feeling a bit blue because I feel like our honeymoon will never happen. I'm afraid that life will continue to get in the way.

In three weeks I will be laying in the sun. I won't have anything to worry about (besides the daily puppy fretting I am sure to do.) I know I am going to have a good time. I just wish I didn't sound like I am trying to convince myself.

Arrogant To Flaunt It Since We Fell In Love With A Bad Idea

I had just gotten over the aches and pains and gastrointestinal distress of last week's stomach flu when I felt a cold coming on. The aches and pains are back, paired with an unbearably sore throat and punishing cough. Not to be confused with my allergies, which are causing sinus pressure like you wouldn't believe and the itchiest of itchy eyes. I realize that this is all sounding very waaah poor fucking me and my stupid achy body but you know what? I am feeling very waaah poor fucking me and my stupid achy body. So, uh, sorry?

I dragged myself into work this morning because I was unsure if my deathly-ill coworker would make it in or not. My boss came in shortly after I did and he was in a mood so I tried to steer clear of him. My deathly-ill coworker followed soon after that, still deathly ill, and she was also in a mood. Fun times. I found out later that both moods were caused by my deathly-ill coworker trying to (legitimately) call in sick and being told that it didn't matter how sick she was, she was working today.  Work was tense, today. More tense than it usually is.

So today was rough, to say the least. Exacerbated by the fact that Shawn and I are a bit touchy right now (I know my monthiversary post is a little late this month but honestly, if I tried to write it right now it would look a little like this:

Dear Shawn,

Happy 8 Monthiversary! 

I kind of want to stab you in the ear right now.

Love Hillary)

So yes, Monday sucked. I was sick, I was tired, I was feeling a little blue, so what did I do? I got a fucking hair cut. 

I have gone to the same stylist for years now. Since I started seeing him he's moved and I've moved and it's now a 45 minute drive (each way!) to get my hair done. Which means that I normally skip the in-between hair cuts and just get it done when I get my highlights done. Which, since becoming all frugal and shite, hasn't been since before the wedding. Yes, I've got 9-month old roots happening people and it is sex-ay. Every time I see this guy, Turtle tells me to be strong. Don't buckle. Don't get the most fucking expensive thing done to my hair and every time I go, I call her afterwards and cry because I drove a long fucking way and it took forever and he managed to talk me into the full head of highlights again (every time I go, he comments on how "mousy" my natural colour is) and I spent 200 fucking dollars. And it looks baaaad. So today I went to a shop nearby. A shop where you can't even make an appointment, you just go in and whoever is available cuts your hair. There is no complimentary coffee and no soothing soundtrack but what it lacks in ambiance it makes up for in frugality. I tipped 25% and my total was still only $20. Twenty dollars!

Anyway, not only did I decide that a haircut in my fragile state was a Great! Idea!, I also decided that today - TODAY - was the day for bangs. I have not had bangs since I was ten years old and I accidentally got my friend's round brush stuck in the front portion of my hair and had to cut it off. And that doesn't really count because it wasn't real bangs, just a large chunk of really short hair that stood straight up. Good lord, I just realized that I had a fucking mullet. Hmm. I'm going to have to try to find pictures of this. 

Right. So Bad Idea #1 was going to get a haircut when I was already pissed off and weepy. Bad Idea #2 was requesting bangs. Bad Idea #3 was eating two ice cream sandwiches for dinner but I'm not sorry about that one. Fuck. I'm going to go cuddle my puppies now. They don't care how stupid my hair looks. 

Fools In Their Madness All Around Know That The Light Don't Sleep

To say that I do not cope well with stress is not entirely accurate as it implies that I cope to a certain degree.

This week has been a mishmash of various stresses (lessons learned this week: occasionally a key employee will get sick at an extremely inopportune time hence, backup plans should be in place as trial and error is not the best method when it comes to learning how to do a company's year end financials; Wolfgang is a lying bastard and should not be trusted when he acts all housebroken and obedient (fluids to hit my sheets this week: vomit x 1 and pee x 2); eating ice cream for dinner will not make you feel better, especially if eaten while watching skinny bitches on America's Next Top Model.)

Throw in a nightly wakeup call from Wolfgang (hereafter referred to as Whiny Asshole) a week of rainy weather and you get a very shouty Hillary. (You get an especially shouty Hillary if you let Whiny Asshole play on the bed, even though you were left explicit instructions to not let him play on the bed due to his inability to keep his bodily fluids to himself, as evidenced by the giant puddle of pee found on the bed last night.)

Calling this week "rough" is a gross understatement.

However. In an hour I will leave the office. In two hours I will be at home, barbecuing burgers (rain be damned!) and watching the hockey game with friends. And in roughly 8 hours? I will be asleep in my (hopefully!) pee-free bed. This week kicked my ass but it's Friday now, which means gin-yes, stress-no.

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 7

Dear Shawn,

Happy 7 Monthiversary!

The last month has been the most difficult month of our marriage so far. You lost your job while I was in the process of deciding whether or not to leave mine. It was difficult to see you feeling so blue, especially since you are definitely the more positive one in this relationship. And then to top it all off, you got sick with the Flu of Doom and then passed it on to me.

We got through it though, relatively unscathed. My employment situation is officially resolved and my head has stopped melting. You started your new job on Monday and even though you don't love it yet, I'm hopeful that you will soon.

Life is slowly returning to normal.

This past month has made me really appreciate how calm you manage to make me feel. We both know I'm a tad emotive (understatement of the year!) and I while I won't admit to overreacting, I will agree that I tend to react strongly to situations. The upheaval we experienced in the last month would normally send me spinning but you managed to keep me steady. Sure there was stress and a few tears and a few brain-meltingly frustrating moments, but there was also laughter and poutine and homemade chicken soup.

We survived the last month and I can't wait to kick next month's ass with you.

Love you.

Hillary

Famous Homemade Chicken Soup, Can I Have Another Bowl?

Shawn made it to his interview yesterday and then came home and collapsed into bed. I found him there when I got home hours later, curled up in his now-rumpled Interview Clothes. Interview Clothes that I had ironed the night before because that is what you do when you love someone, you iron their dress shirts and pants so they don't look homeless when they go on a job interview. It had nothing to do with the fact that I actually enjoy ironing (let's just keep that our little secret, shall we? I don't want Shawn finding out that I don't mind doing the one chore that he hates with a passion and promises endless backrubs and chocolate in order to get out of doing.)

Shawn has had an impressive array of Man Colds in the time I've known him (no really, click that link - you will pee your pants) but I've never seen him sick sick. He's got a fever that's actually backed by the thermometer and he's been acting a bit loopy. For example, earlier I was talking to Turtle about our little sister (the judgey one) and Shawn piped up that her name is the Hawaiian word for banshee. And then he giggled uncontrollably.  So yes, Shawn is sick. Sicker than I realized at 4am when I may or may not have told him to man up and let me sleep. 

In an effort to alleviate my guilt and prove that I do have the capacity to be sympathetic (just not at 4am!) I made Shawn some homemade chicken soup. It's surprisingly easy to make and it serves its purpose well - the person who makes the soup gets to feel like a rockstar and the person who eats the soup gets to feel loved. 

Put 4 cups cold water and 4 cups chicken stock in a large pot over medium-high heat. Chop up 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts into smallish chunks and add to broth (I usually add the chicken to the broth before I turn the heat on to ensure that the chicken is cooking for the longest amount of time possible but I'm pretty crazy when it comes to cooking chicken. I consistently overcook my chicken because of my irrational fear of germs.) As the broth heats up, chop and add the following: 1 purple onion, diced finely. 2 carrots, chopped. 3 stalks celery, chopped. About an inch of fresh ginger root, grated (minced? I don't know what it's called.) Let the mixture come to a boil. When it's boiling rapidly, add about a cup and a half of uncooked egg noodles, about a cup of frozen pees and a few teaspoons of dried parsley flakes. Bring to a boil again, cover, reduce heat and simmer for about 15 minutes (or until noodles are cooked through and you're convinced the chicken is done.) For maximum brownie points, serve with crackers & cheese and lemon tea. 

And because I have no idea how to end this post: a picture of the puppies each chewing a bone instead of chewing each other. I call this picture Progress (even though you can totally tell from Stella's facial expression that she'd much rather be chowing down on Wolfgang's ear.) 

And Neither Will I Take It From Snappy Young Brats

Shawn and I are making a huge effort to be especially gentle with each other right now. We're both stressed about our individual job situations and what it means for us as a couple. We're both making an effort to be supportive and encouraging and just nice to each other. Except that sometimes, at 4am, when you're shaken awake from a deep sleep so that your husband can tell you that he feels sick, it's difficult to remember to be nice. Sometimes you might respond with a snappy "sssshhhhhh!" and a disgruntled sigh. You might even ask your husband if he could perhaps shiver less violently, as you're trying to sleep.

In my defence, I don't think I was actually awake because I don't remember any of it at all. Shawn told me the story this morning, with puppy dog eyes and a gravelly voice. He's got a fever and chills and a sore throat (and a job interview! today!) and oh, aren't I the best wife in the world? If I ever have kids, I will totally be the mom who's all "Gawd. Can't you change your own diaper? I have important things to do like reading blogs and eating chocolate."

Sigh.

So I made him some lemon tea and made myself a bit late for work but I think it was worth it because he just texted me to let me know that he's on his way to his interview (my lemon tea is magical.) I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he doesn't vomit on anyone.

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 6

Dear Shawn,

Happy 6 Monthiversary!

January was a slow month. We're trying to save money so we've had many quiet nights in. I'm not complaining though - staying home instead of going out has resulted in me perfecting my chicken satay recipe. Wolfgang continues to pee on the floor instead of his puppy pad. Stella continues to be the cutest puppy in the world. I have almost finished painting the condo and you have added another(!) piece of equipment to your System. The last month has been quiet; I feel like I should be fretting more over us becoming old boring married folk. I'm not though, because it's been so much fun.

Here's to another six months.

Love,
Hillary

Not A Letter From An Occupant

Dear Boy I Had A Major Crush On In Highschool Who I Literally Ran Into On The Street Outside My Building This Morning:

I haven't seen you in, oh, eight years or so but you are still looking good. Your dimples are as cute as ever. I just wanted to let you know that usually I brush my hair before I leave the house in the morning but this morning I was a bit rushed. I wear makeup now too! (but not until I get to work because, you know, there's no point in wasting valuable sleeping time putting on mascara because really, who sees me before I get to work? Oh that's right, today you saw me.) Also, I don't normally wear wrinkled trousers to work - I do know how to work an iron, I just didn't have time this morning. Actually, I was planning on wearing my cute little wool dress today with adorable dark red tights, but then it was raining and it looked cold and I didn't have time to check the weather network so I just threw on the first thing I found in my closet. In the dark (because Shawn's not working this morning.) So Boy I Had A Major Crush On In Highschool, if you could maybe try to picture me wearing the cute wool dress with the adorable red tights, with brushed hair and makeup on, instead of all wrinkled and disheveled like I actually was, I'd much appreciate it.

Love,
The Wrinkly One

PS: I did not appreciate your tone when you asked "So are you living around here?" Yes, there is a lot of crack in my neighbourhood but there is no crack in my house and that is an important distinction to make. Besides, you're the one going to school there. What are you learning to be? A crack dealer? Oh snap!

PPS: It would have been nice if you could have worked your schedule into our conversation somehow so that I could, you know, take the other route to the train station on those days. Just sayin'.



Dear Lady On The Train Who Sat In The Middle Of The Floor And Read A Newspaper:

Was it necessary to sit on the floor? If you really couldn't stand for the thirty minutes it takes to get downtown, you could have asked for a courtesy seat. People are jerks but I've been riding the train for over a year now and I've never seen anyone outright refuse to give up a courtesy seat when asked. By sitting on the floor, you were taking up about the same amount of floor space of four standing passengers. Could you feel the rage of the 60 other train passengers directed toward you? Maybe you shouldn't take the train during rush hour. Just a suggestion.

From,
A Disgruntled Passenger



Dear Shawn,

Hypothetically speaking, if your wife devotes a large portion of her evening (every evening, for a week!) painting the condo, acceptable comments for you to make would include:

"Wow! You are such a good painter!"
"Your painting talent amazes me!"
"This is the best paint job I have ever seen!"

Unacceptable comments include (but are not limited to):

"You didn't use painter's tape to make a crease?"
and "I'm not criticizing your work, I'm just saying that if you used painter's tape, it would look better!"

Your wife knows how painter's tape works, in theory. You wife also knows (FROM EXPERIENCE) that it doesn't really work that well and it's easier to just touch up the uneven crease later.

Love,
The One Who Makes Your Dinner And Will Spit In Said Dinner If You Make Any More Snotty Comments About The Quality Of The Paint Job



Dearest Wolfgang,

I know that my arrival home from work is the highlight of your day. I realize that it is a Very! Exciting! Thing! and sometimes you can't contain yourself. Was it really necessary to headbutt me in the mouth, though? My tooth is still throbbing. I don't have dental insurance and if I need to go to the dentist because of this, it's coming directly out of your college fund.

Love,
The One Who Can't Put Any Pressure On Her Front Tooth Without Pain



Dear Vancouver Canucks:

You had a 3-1 lead. How could you lose 5-3? To Nashville, the lowest scoring team in the Western Conference. Smarten up!

Sincerely,
A Former Fan