Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat

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We aren’t here to discuss the fish lovers.

There are three types of people in this world:

People who like cats.

People who like dogs.

And those poor souls who like fish. We aren’t here to discuss the fish lovers.

I have now and always will be a cat person. A cat, especially my cat, a 5 year old 20lb black and white tabby named Dante, is easy. I feed him twice a day. He enjoys a good cuddle in the morning and just before I go to bed but that is as much attention as he needs.

CJ is now and always will be a dog person. A dog, especially the 100lb creature he wishes to acquire, demands constant attention. You can’t do anything without considering the dog. You can’t fill a dog’s bowl up and leave it for the weekend. Apparently a dog loves you in ways the cat could never but I’m not sure about that.

I don’t want a dog. If I wanted to be responsible for another creature I would have a baby. And despite CJ swearing up and down it will be his dog and his responsibility I know, like with all things we do, the responsibility will be at least 50/50.

As a couple you make compromises in your relationship. Sometimes you have to give in not because you want to but because it’s the right thing to do. He so seldom asks of anything from me that when he has a simple request – even one that will change our lives forever and make us responsible for a needy creature I feel like I have to do it.

I’ve read the books. I’ve talked to dog owners. I’ve insisted on spending lots of time with dogs.  Apparently it’s going to be fine. Apparently I will fall in love with the slobbering creature and magically transform from happy cat lady into crazy dog lady. Apparently.

As soon as I relented and agreed to let a creature into our lives, CJ found a list of potential breeders. He’s been researching the best ones and what to look for in a dog. He’s happily considering various dog foods and dog vets and other dog things. I’ve never seen him so productive over … anything.

Despite a full round of heel dragging I’ve agreed to participate in the selection process. I mean I agreed to this ridiculous scenario so I’m going to go all in.

This morning I sent an email to a breeder asking about a German Sheppard puppy.

What’s that? It’s spelt shepherd eh? Hmmm, oops. My bad. Hopefully it doesn’t prevent the woman from answering my email because she thinks we’re too dumb to own a dog.

… hey, just because I agreed to something doesn’t mean I have to give up my passive aggressive measures to prevent it from happening.


Quick Note.

February is a month full of things to do.

Busy season is demanding 60 hour work weeks; CJ and I are in the final stages of planning the wedding; friends are moving away, having babies, getting married, moving home, all occasions are celebrated with a party; I joined a three day-a-week cardio class; AND the Olympics are giving me liver disease (you try watching a hockey game without a beer in your hands, it’s impossible and I don’t even like beer) and also demoralizing (WHY CANADA WHY? WE ARE SUPPOSED TO OWN THE PODIUM NOT STEP TO THE SIDE SO OTHER COUNTRIES CAN).

My calendar looks chaotic and I constantly have the feeling that I’m forgetting something… I have little scraps of paper all over my office and home with to-do lists on them. I’ve been trying to do it all and now my head is spinning from the frenzy of it.

I’m hoping for a better March. Check back soon.


5:00am this morning:

CJ and I are sleeping. The alarm is set to go off at 6:00am and then a flurry of us running around and getting out of the house in 20 minutes ensues.


We both wake up by the sound of hail. Sweet Jesus – hail in July? That hasn’t happened in a while. We talk for a minute about how annoying it is and then realize that the hail is not hitting properly. Chang-thunk. Chang-thunk. This hail is hitting twice? We look out the window and see rocks being thrown towards our window; bouncing off the wall and then hitting the patio. Chang-thunk.

After a minute of staring at each other to decide who was going to go outside and deal with the rock thrower; I win the task by blinking. I throw some clothing on, cursing the drunk idiot friend of ours who dares wakes us up. You see, we live downtown – close to all the bars. We often get woken up when our idiot friends don’t have enough cab money or lose their cell phones. But usually we get woken up on the weekend. Not on a Tuesday morning. I walk outside just as another rock comes hurling towards the patio. This one almost hits me!

I look over the patio and see two guys holding rocks on the ground. Instead of seeing some dumb friend’s of ours; I don’t recognize these boys.

“Why are you throwing rocks?”
“I forgot my key! I’m trying to wake my roommate up!”
“He doesn’t live here!”
“No, we live above you”

The apartment above us? With the small patio that throws their cigarette butts onto our larger patio? The one where the boys who lived there walked inside when I tried to introduce myself? That one? I look at the boys again, trying to adjust my eyes – these do not look like the boys from upstairs.

“Let me in! I forgot my key! Buzz me in!”
“I don’t know you! I’m not letting you in! Call the super and Stop Throwing Rocks!”
“No, I can’t wake the super he’ll charge me $50!”

These boys are clearly drunk. They are dressed as if they had been downtown – douche bag designer shirts with the collars popped and jeans. We live in a schmancy apartment building where the rent makes me cry a little on the inside every month. I don’t want to judge but you should be able to afford the $50 if you are dumb enough to forget your keys, because you were drinking on a Monday night. My anger starts to boil now.

“Listen! Assholes! Some of us need to be awake in less than an hour and do not appreciate being awoken at 5am by two drunk little boys throwing rocks at our windows. I am not letting you in. I am not calling the super for you. But if you throw one more rock at my window you will regret it”

The boys look at me dumbfounded. I don’t think they expected to be yelled at. They walk away from my window and towards the front door.

I snuggle back into bed after briefing CJ on how the neighbours are REALLY going to hate me now.


Nope, that’s not our door being pounded on. That’s the one upstairs with the drunk boys trying to wake their roommate. The roommate I suspect is either not home or passed out cold. Again, schmancy apartment building with soundproofing throughout. They have to be hitting REALLY hard in order for us to be hearing it.

I close our bedroom door and the sound is muffled. I try to go back to sleep.

Pounding has been going on for 15 minutes. I am almost ready to call the super when the pounding stops. Finally. I don’t really want to call a noise complaint on anyone. I just want to yell at them for waking me up.

I now have to be up in 15 minutes. Today is not going to be a good day.

Arrrrr, Matey

I got my hair done today (yay!)

While getting my hair washed, I sneezed and something went POP!

I broke a blood vessel in my eye.
After consulting the diet coke stealing doctor (more about him later) and learning I was not going to die, I am left with a bloody mess in my eye.

I’m also going out tonight and going to see loads and loads of people I care about looking pretty for (ie. girls I don’t like very much).

So… Eyepatch anyone?
Aunt Lily Style from Pushing Daisies?

Jerk It.

Thunderheist and coffee in the morning is the breakfast of champions.
Happy Friday!

Wikipedia. Part 1.

Alternative Titles:
Why I am going to become the smartest person in the entire universe.

Reasons I am the most annoying person to watch tv with.

Dude. I wiki/google every question I ever think of.

My iPhone app Wikiamo keeps a one week history of everything I look up. I thought I’d share that list with you now. I will not comment on the contents of this list. Nor will I edit this list and take off the embarrassing parts. Just know that I really do look up everything and read the entire entry. Also, I’m twisted.

July 1st – July 7th
Jumping the Shark
Ted McFinley
Freaks and Geeks
High School Musical
Lucas Grabeel
Waynes World
Tia Carrere
Lindy Booth
Fried Green Tomatoes (film)
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
Mary Stuart Masterson
Revolutionary Road (book)
Revolutionary Road (film)
Sam Mendes
American Beauty
Thora Birch
Carol Connors (pornographic actress)
Deep Throat (film)
Mena Suvari
Dante Alighieri
Divine Comedy
Henry VIII
Empress Matilda

That doesn’t even cover what I googled or looked up on the laptop/desktop.


My attention span is not working for me today.

I should be working. Hard. Diligent. Deadline is looming. I’m normally very good at motivating myself and getting to work. I’ve been called “ruthlessly efficient” by a very important business man. He then offered me a job. I turned it down. I now work for myself. It’s been going really well because I don’t need someone to tell me what to do. I get stuff done. I’m highly motivated.

But today… today… I daydream. I make a list of all the things I need to do in order to get work done. I look at the stacks of paper on my desk. I just don’t feel like tackling them today. Unfortunately I need to get some billable time in. I sit with a bank statement and doodle on it. I then erase the doodles. One can not give a client back paperwork covered with flowers. I’ve somehow wasted four hours … doing … nothing. I revise the list of things I need to do. I need to get my stuff done today.

The Hitch List

I’ve just stumbled across the most interesting blog.  The idea behind The Hitch List is to do various things before one gets married. Started by someone who just wants to make her way in the world, I find the idea interesting. But at first I was completely insulted.

 Why is it that one insists that by settling down you can not experience life anymore? That you need to have all your shit figured out before you commit? Can one who gets married, or for that matter be in a relationship, never again have an adventure?

 Full disclosure time:

I’m getting married in June 2010. I met CJ when I was 19 years old. Within two months we had fallen in love and moved in together. Seriously. We have that sickening relationship that my girlfriends talk about being perfect. We aren’t perfect but we do have an awesome relationship that allows us to have personal freedom. We have both done amazing things together and apart in our five years together.

 So, going into reading the blog I had my guard up a bit. I was ready to trash this idea completely as a waste of time – part of the “I need to discover myself” bullshit that so many of us claim to need in our lives when really we can’t face ourselves in the mirror, accept and love that person as is.

 Then I read the smart and witty writing. I read the list very carefully. Realization: I’ve done most items on this list. At least those that interest me. While I don’t think they are required to be done while being single (save those that are about fooling around with other people) I think they are important enough to be done before walking down an aisle in an expensive white dress.    

I forget, when I’m on my high and mighty horse of relationship advice, that most people haven’t had a wild 18th year filled with enough scandal to give one’s mother a heart attack.  I forget that most people aren’t stubborn like me and have no problem with saying to their significant others “I’m going to run off to Manhattan for a month – you can cover rent right?” Or “Sweetie, I’m quitting my job and starting my own business – cool?” Or be able to stay calm when he comes to you and says “I want to marry you but if you want me to spend that much money on a diamond you best be getting me something fantastic too” or “I’m having a boys night tonight – can you leave the apartment?”

 Mostly, I forget that people often forget who they are when they are in a relationship. That they aren’t comfortable with being themselves with another person – showing their true colours, all of their crazy cards and hoping that the other person will love them anyway.

 Good luck with the Hitch List Polly. Hopefully you find what you are looking for while you are doing it.

Saturday Night.

It must be the rain.

Windows still open from the muggy day, heavy droplets are hitting the patio in a steady rhythm.

Or maybe it’s the wine. A few days stale, it was cheap to begin with. My head is slightly buzzing.

It could be the sappy romantic movies I’ve been watching all night. Love stories and female companionship.

Most likely it’s the loneliness. CJ is out for the evening. My girlfriends are out for the summer. I actually couldn’t find plans for tonight, I tried. I could have crashed boy’s night with CJ but I’m just not that type of girl.

Tonight is a night that makes me wish I was one of those girls who could surround themselves with acquaintances. Those people always have things to do. I used to be that girl. I used to have a social calendar filled with appointments and parties. What no one tells you about those girls is that they lack real friendships – the kind where you call someone and they come running – but at least they aren’t alone.

No, I now focus my love and attention on a few people at a time. This usually pays great dividends. Except on nights like tonight. Then I’m by myself. I get weepy and drink another glass of wine. Curse myself for not forcing myself to become friends with that girl I kinda sorta liked from that party. Except I didn’t like how she threw herself at that guy with a popped collar. Why can’t I look past such stupid little things?

Curse my girlfriends for being so successful, talented and adventurous. All are having summers of self discoveries. Those who haven’t moved away for school, jobs and relationships are traveling around Europe, road tripping in California, about to give birth, enjoying a new relationship or repairing an old one.

I’m having a summer of sameness. My life is practically perfect and there is nothing for me to discover this summer. I’m happy about all this, I don’t want to begrudge anyone from finding themselves – I did it myself previous years. I wouldn’t change anything in my life, I love it. My relationship is perfect*, I’m building a career… but part of me is feeling neglected and left out. Years of being ahead of the curve have caught up to me and I’m stuck with one silly summer where everyone else has adventures and I don’t.

I’ll wait this out. These girls will come back to my city. Having missed me too, I hope.

Until then, I’m alone. With the rain. With the wine. With myself.


*CJ is fantastic. He’s been spending more time than usual with me. Keeping our mutual calendar full of couple activities. Same with my other guy friends – all there, all supportive. But it is not the same as having a girlfriend.


We had gone to dinner and decided the night was not quite done. Quickly running to Blockbuster and the liquor store we hatched a plan. A girl’s sleepover tonight! How exciting, how young, we haven’t done that in a million years.

We ran by my apartment so I could pick up the essentials – pjs, toothbrush, change of clothes. I consult the boy about our plans. Not to ask permission, but to let him know what’s going on.

Although he would never say it out loud – he hates it when I spend the night away from him. Over 5 years of living together he has grown attached to sleeping next to someone at night. A particular comfort happens between two lovers who sleep together. A dance of blankets and pillows; cuddling intermittently throughout the night. He tells me to have fun and kisses me goodbye. Already he is settling into the sofa – he does not sleep in our bed if I’m not at home. He will say it’s because the sofa is more comfortable; but we both know it’s because the empty bed is not cozy enough.

In the car, we girls make fun of my boy’s inability to sleep alone. I say something witty and self important about being more independant than him.

 A night of laughter ensues. It is getting later and later. Somewhere between my second and third drink I realize that the night has already hit its peak. What seemed like such a good idea a few hours ago now has faults. Excuses form in my head. I am a morning person, I was up hours before my girlfriends, I’m tired way before they are. I work the next morning. I’m not the best sleeper, I don’t want to disturb them. It is probably best I get an uninterrupted sleep. I say my goodbyes and go home.

Coming home, I wake him up from the sofa. His sleepy smile lets me know that he missed me too. We fall into bed. Comfortable. Safe.