Baby Please Open Your Heart And Catch My Disease

Friday Faff: I'm Highly Medicated Don't Judge My Rambling Edition

I have spent the last two days dying of a throat/ear blight. This morning I woke up and could feel it in my chest. And yet ... it's Friday and calling in sick on a Friday is a major no-no in my office. So here I am, at work, spreading my nasty germs around.

Suffice it to say, I will not be at the BlogHer Vancity event tomorrow. I've got to be way out in the suburbs by 2pm for Cat's engagement party and I'm thinking I may need the morning to rest up. Who knows ... maybe tomorrow morning I'll wake up feeling fine and I'll crash the meet-up. Anyway, to anyone who is going tomorrow: I'm really disappointed I won't get to meet/see you. Hopefully next time I won't be a disgusting bag of disease and I will be able to go.

* * * * *

In other news, I forgot to write my 10th Monthiversary post. I'll, uh, get on that. At some point. Maybe.

* * * * *

After months of being jerked around by multiple car dealerships, Shawn and I were able to trade in our cars and consolidate to one car. I lost some cash on my car but Shawn managed to break even. We are now the proud owners of a 2007 VW GTI. She's gorgeous.

* * * * *

Oh! I almost forgot. This happened on Tuesday but I have been stewing about it since. The pups and I were at the dog park. I noticed Stel acting a bit weird so I called her over and discovered a really sticky, strawberry flavoured, giant wad of bubblegum stuck to her foot. It was all up in between her toes, under her nails, stuck in her fur, ALL OVER. It took me so long to get it all off. I made the poor thing stand in the bathtub full of coldish water while I tried to scrape it off. Her foot is a little sore (the pad is a bit raw) but I figured it was better than her chewing the gum off her foot and eating it.

So. If you are in a dog park, don't spit your fucking gum on the ground. This goes for the asshats who smoke while in the dog park also. Put your trash / gum / cigarette butts in the garbage/poop receptacle the parks people so kindly provide. My dogs (especially Stella) eat everything. She has eaten more cigarette butts than I can count. THIS CAN'T BE GOOD FOR HER. Aaannd I'm done ranting.

* * * * *

Tonight is the Stanley Cup final. I'm cheering for the Penguins because the Red Wings really annoy me for some reason (probably because they win all the time.) And because Mermanda lives in Pittsburgh and I don't know/read anyone who lives in Detroit.

* * * * *

So that's all I've got. What's going on in your world? Do I have any Vancouver readers who are going to the meet-up tomorrow?

Goodbye My Love Into Your Blue Blue Eyes Your Blue Blue World You're My Baby Blue

Dear Dave Matthews Band:

Thank you for producing such a kickass album. I have been listening to 'Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King' all week. You never disappoint me.

Keep up the good work!

Love,
Your Baby Blue

* * * * *

Dear Maxie,

You are crazy and I love it.



Your blogger face is beautiful.

Love Hillary

* * * * *

Dear Soup I Made for Dinner Last Night:

Thanks for not tasting gross.

Look! Food without beets!

red onion, green pepper, garlic, jalapeño, snap peas, shitake mushrooms (sliced big enough that I can pick them out) and broccoli

stirred around in a few tablespoons of hot olive oil until the onions are soft

1 can of baby corn - sliced, half a brick of tofu - diced, 1 package stirfry noodles, 1 can of water chestnuts - sliced, all thrown into the pot with 8 cups of chicken stock

heat until broth is bubbly, vegetables are soft, and tofu is hot

I'm sorry that Shawn wasn't interested in you. Maybe one day he will accept tofu as an unavoidable part of his life.

Love,
The One Who is Already Sick of Soup but Has a Giant Pot to Work Through (anyone want to come over for dinner?)

* * * * *

Dear Jillian,

Erm ... since when is Vancouver your hometown? Last year when you were on the Bachelor, weren't you from Red Deer? I'm confused. A few things confused me, actually, during last night's episode. Like, what time of day were you in Granville Island Market? I have never seen it that empty. And was it as awkward for you to kiss Kiptyn as it was for us to watch you kiss Kiptyn? I like the guy, I think he's one of the less douchey bachelors, but dude, that kiss was cringe-worthy.

Last night's episode wasn't just confusing, though. It was also very dramatic. You were so adorable when addressing the guys after the girlfriend bomb was dropped. You were just so Canadian when you called it the "rudest thing" and told the guys that your "feelings were hurt." I could have used a few more swear words is all I'm sayin'. I can't wait to see what happens next week.

Love Hillary

PS: Thanks for sending David home. I'm 99% sure that he's a serial killer.

PPS: You should pretty much just marry Reid now, but only if he promises to never take off his glasses.

I Think I Got Something In My Teeth Could You Get It Out For Me? That's Effing Teamwork!

Last week Ben posted a review of the Flappy on Who's Your Daschund. I scoffed - scoffed! - at his claim that the Tuffy Flappy could withstand a week with his pups.

I had to see for myself.

Things started off well. Wolfgang loves his Flappy.

I bought two of the same-sized Tuffies so the pups wouldn't have Flappy envy.

The problem is that nothing tastes better than someone else's Flappy.

Please note the sad, lonely Flappy that has been forgotten by Wolfgang. Clearly it does not taste as good as Stella's Flappy.

Wolfgang is fighting a losing battle.

Tug of war!

The shenanigans were resolved when the pups realized that they could both chew on one Flappy without getting in each other's way.

Overall I'm pretty impressed with the Flappy. The pups had a lot of fun, the squeaker was less obnoxious than other toys we've tried in the past, and neither puppy managed to destroy it. The Flappy isn't a toy that I'd leave with the pups in their crates (Stella has managed to chew the ends off the flappy bits and I'm confident that given a few hours alone with the Flappy she'd manage to chew through the middle bit) but it's definitely a toy I'll let them play with when they're out of their crates. Every toy we've tried with the pups has been ruined (by Stella) on the day we brought it home. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the pups each have one toy - the Nylabone Galileo Bone "designed specifically for powerful chewers" - so I'm very excited to have found another toy tough enough to prevail against Stella's earnest attempt at destruction.

Bad Boy Bad Boy Whatcha Gonna Do?

Yesterday started off fabulously.

The puppies didn't start their daily whinefest until after the alarm went off (Wolfgang usually starts a good two hours before the alarm goes off. I don't know why I still love him.)

Shawn woke me up the good way.

My boss is away so I get to wear cool t-shirts to work. Yesterday's said "A city built on rock n' roll would be structurally unsound." It's funny but also really relevant to my job, which brings me joy. (Just to clarify: my job doesn't bring me joy. The t-shirt's relevance to my job brings me joy.)

I got to work and realized it was Camp Day at Tim Horton's (which is just an excuse to buy lots of coffee.) (What? I do it for the kids!)

See? Fabulous!

Things started to get less fabulous around midday.

I went to grab sushi for lunch. The sushi place I go to is set up with coolers filled with prepared rolls on the left and a cash register directly in front of you when you walk in. I've been going to this sushi place for almost four years. As soon as I walk in the door, I check to see if the spot where my roll is kept is empty (and it always is at lunch) and head straight for the cash register to order if it is. There was a lady, an EVIL LADY, faffing all over the cooler when I came in the door. Just as I got to the cash register, she whipped around so that she was directly in front of me with the roll she had just chosen. BLATANT BUDGING! Obviously I couldn't let it go - not after Monday's coffee line budging incident - so I cleared my throat. Loudly. I know, I'm an animal. So I clear my throat in that "let's both just acknowledge that you're an asshole" way and she turns around, not to apologize, but to give me the stink eye. I was thisclose to kicking her in the shin.

I went back to the office and ate my sushi. The sushi tasted a bit ... off. Three hours later, when my guts were trying to escape my body, I realized that maybe when sushi tastes wrong, one should throw it out instead of continuing to eat it. Lesson learned.

Yesterday Nilsa wrote a post on how wonderful her neighbourhood is. I left a comment bemoaning the state of my neighbourhood. She emailed me back and I realized that I had been a bit tough on my neighbourhood. It's really not so bad.

And then I got home from work.

The street in front of my building was full of scary men in body armour. Four large, black trucks filled the street with two police cars crammed in for good measure. There didn't seem to be any sense of urgency - the scary men were just milling about - so I approached the door. I asked one of the men what was going on and he told me not to worry, that my building is now "the safest building" in my city. Ha ha. He wouldn't tell me what had happened though, just that it was resolved now and he couldn't talk about it.

I got into the elevator with two police officers who were headed to the 4th floor. I live on the 4th floor. So of course the crazy sets in and I start to worry that someone has broken into my condo and murdered my puppies. Because murdered puppies warrant 6 police vehicles and no less than 20 police officers. Obviously.

I asked the officers what was going on but they wouldn't tell me anything, just that it was now safe to be in the building.

Dear Police Officers,
Telling a crazy lady that it is now safe to be in her building is not reassuring to her. AT ALL.
Love Hillary

I couldn't find any information online until this morning so I got no sleep last night (though that might have had something to do with the heatwave we're currently experiencing.)

It turns out that someone on the 5th floor was hanging out a window with a pellet rifle so someone called the police. Apparently it looked like a real rifle. I'm unclear on what a pellet rifle is or what one looks like but I'm happy that the entire freaking police force turned out to deal with the situation. I'm also happy that no-one got murdered (especially puppies!) because Shawn left this morning for a four day business trip and I would likely have to spend those four days at my parents' house if I wanted to actually get some sleep.

So to sum up: coffee = good, sushi = bad. Puppies = good, asshats with pellet rifles = bad.

I Love The Exquisite Array I Love The Camp As Camp Parade

It's Camp Day at Tim Horton's today, which means a portion of every coffee sale goes to the Tim Horton Children's Foundation.

I cannot think of a better reason to drink copious amounts of the yummy goodness that is Tim Horton's coffee.

Here I am cracking into my first double double of the day.

(PS to Mermanda: I finally have a Blackberry so I can take photos and email them instantly! No cords required!)

(PPS: My hair is being an asshole today. Don't judge me.)

One More Cup Of Coffee For The Road

Dear Lady Standing Three People Behind Me in Line Yesterday,

When a new cashier opens, it's not a sign for you to jump ahead to be first in her line. That's called budging. The next person in the original line gets to go first. That's just the rule. You may not agree with it but you still have to obey it.

We were lined up for coffee.

On a Monday morning.

That's a good way to get stabbed, in my opinion.

Love,
The Lady Who May Be a Little Too Dependent on Her Caffeine

* * * * *

Dear Stella,

Last night when you came out of the bedroom with a sock in your mouth, I told you very sternly to drop it. Thanks for not listening. It meant that Shawn had to get up from his dinner to make you drop it (it was his sock. I have no sympathy for the guy who leaves his damn socks on the floor every freaking day.) This gave you the opportunity to jump up on his chair and start eating his salad while he dug the sock out from where you left it under the bed. You looked adorable with a bunch of baby spinach hanging out of your mouth.

Love,
The One Who Reprimanded You Harshly but Was Laughing Hysterically on the Inside

* * * * *

Dear Wes,

Stop singing your song. No really, stop it. Maybe if I had the opportunity to hear the song in its entirety instead of only hearing the first line over and over and over, I wouldn't want to punch myself in the ear every time you opened your mouth.

Love,
The One Who is Not Ashamed to Admit She Watches the Bachelorette

* * * * *

Dear Self,

If your bare legs touch the train seat, your dress is too short. It is especially too short for work.

Love Hillary

PS: Wash your legs.

* * * * *

Just A Small Town Girl Living In A Lonely World She Took The Midnight Train Going Anywhere

I met Robin after work on Friday for what was supposed to be a few civilized drinks. We were drinking Pimm's for eff's sake; you can't get more civilized than Pimm's. It had been a while since Robin and I had a proper visit; one that didn't involve kitchen gadgets or noisy puppies or time constraints. A few drinks turned into many drinks and the next thing you know, we're sitting in an Irish bar with a bunch of English blokes. That is the type of night you have when you're friends with Robin.

I've known Robin since her family moved to my neighbourhood almost twenty years ago. We were in the same grade 2 class. We bonded over a shared love of the Skip-It (I had one; she didn't; a great friendship is born.) Robin is one of those forever friends; one you know will always be there. The problem with that, of course, is that when you know someone will always love you, you don't always spend enough time earning that love. Since moving out of the city, I haven't made enough of an effort to be Robin's friend. I've been phoning it in for a while.

I have my justifications: my stressful job, my soul-sucking commute, my attention-hogging puppies. What it all boils down to, though, is that I've been avoiding the city. I see Robin when she comes out to my place or we meet after work for a quick drink. I don't come to the city specifically to see her. Friday night made me realize why. I miss the city. I miss the seawall and the chilled-out atmosphere of a lazy summer afternoon spent on the beach. I miss walking home from work and being able to hit a grocery store, liquor store and drug store all on the way. I miss catching a $7 cab ride to the Granville Strip. I even miss the ankle-turning cobblestones of Gastown.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I told Shawn that I want to move back downtown. We've been talking about buying a house but that would entail moving out to the suburbs. The real suburbs with lawns and backyards and no highrises or transit system. I could sacrifice my dream of having a garden and he could give up his hopes of ever having a home studio and we could happily live in 550 square feet of prime Vancouver real estate. Right?

Shawn, surprisingly, wasn't totally against the idea. He misses the city as much as I do. It's not something we could do in the near future but it's an idea that is now brewing in the back of both of our minds. For now I need to stop punishing myself for moving away from this city I love and work at being a better friend to Robin. After all, a friend with a sweet downtown address is not someone you want to lose touch with (I kid, I kid.)

(Okay maybe not, but I do love Robin for more than her awesome apartment.)

(She also has really gorgeous clothes that she lets me borrow sometimes.)