three partial days in five unrelated paragraphs

i woke up with pissy pants two days ago. yup. seriously. i'd not pissed the bed since days of toilet training. i took two mgs of melatonin in liquid form before sleeping, knowing full well that it was probably too high a dose because liquids are assimilated into your system very very quickly and efficiently. melatonin's a hormone that helps you fall quickly into a deep, natural state of sleep. now even tho i woke at least once in the night, i apparently didn't have to pee or didn't bother until my unconscious and apparently ultra-relaxed bladder told my body that all systems were a go for pissing. i was mildly embarassed and didn't tell the boys until the end of the day, upon which they both enjoyed a round of hardy chortling as i joined them.

my walk home from work on sunday allowed me to close the chapter on the curious mini flags i'd been seeing as i whizzed by (perpetually late for work). after three or four walks past them, taking miniscule observations each time, i realized now that the mini flags bore an image of our favourite dimbulb president complete with the everpresent jerky ignorant cuss expression under which the url www.pooprotest.com was written. oh yes, and the flags were mounted in dog feces, hence poop protest. it was fucking absurdly hilarious.

yesterday was a day of playing catch with a 55" exerise ball with our feet and choosing hypothetical wild acryllic nailjobs and buying an aquamarine and cobat blue porpoise toothbrush with a suction cup for the low, low price of $1.49 and beating records that can only be beat by yourself. we baked a top effin' notch onion pie. i had to make pastry for said pie, and instead of using my intuition and not pouring nearly a cup of cold water into my near-perfect flour/salt/marg mixture, i did. "this isn't even DOOOOUGH!" i howled, and was met with laughter and a comparison to lucille ball. so i effed around with it, added more kamut flour and fat, and eventually came up with something that altho far from pastry, was, er, some unreasonable facsimile. i'd now made way too much, so added cinnamon and raisins and wasted not and wanted not by forming them into bread cookies that went over swimmingly, despite his usual despisal of the taste of my sweet wheat, kamut. before we even tasted the pie, we decided that the accidental bread cookies were worth the potential pie failure. to be fair, i believe ech may have originally made bread cookies worth the effort in july. anyway, the pie was the christly bomb, despite the bastardly shite british measuring conversion process which i blame for potentially mucking up my pastry.

nothing is cooler than blogging in my bed listening to slayer. i have kindly been given access to two new pieces of shoddy techinology- this sketch laptop that has a couple of sticky keys and a screen that fades, as well as a discman whose headphones are broken and have to be stuck under a tight hat. i complain not, tho-- i am used to broken things. in the case that objects i'm using are perfectly useful and smooth sailing, i begin to question their charm and integrity. normally, i lose access to them. i am not meant to have nice things.

waking up pre-crack o'dawn is, well, difficult when it's been a while. it used to be a mainstay when i hated my job in tantallon, and many days last summer it's when i went to bed. this morning, p.c.o.d was tolerable with the buddy-system and a steamy shower. it's like nine o'clock and i've gotten so much done and shit. so as i sit here with seasons in the abyss metlin' up my tiny chamber and cotton with colloidal silver and sea salt attempting to draw a potential infection from a pussy pussy wound from an ingrown vday suprise, i bid you good effin' day.

vday for the nosy

since you asked (nosy nosy), vday 2005 was killer.
slept in and woke up in a beautiful way, and the day proceeded as such. got to eat some dietary no-nos like vegan grilled cheese with ketchup, a sliver of dark chocolate with cranberries and almonds, and one of muriel's gingersnaps. we let a mouse go. visited the photo booth in dreadful scotia square and took a strip of fab photos. went cd shopping (i bought nothing), wished the boys at random play happy vday. returned home, had an amazing bath and we went for supper at satisfaction feast: cashew carrot loaf and mashed sweet and regular potatoes with mushroom gravy and cranberry sauce, a soy chai and some take out desserts (me: strawberry apple crumble, him a peanut butter ball) to eat during the movie that made us cry. then to a rock show at the khyber-- dog day (kc and crystal from the hold and seth and nancy from the burdocks-- it doesn't get much better) and sharp like knives-- yo rodeo's paul's dance-rock band. i stood on a chair to see. then back home for, well, stuff it's best you do at home. jojoba oil and stuff. and then to bed. and i got to sleep in again the next morning.
so there.

p.s. at the restaurant, there were two straight couples, two gay couples and two groups of bitter girls. balanced, no?

what kind of (my) soulmate doesn't have long hair?

today i was given a reeses pieces trail straight to my apparent soulmate and passed up the chance. i don't think i need him. the commons smelled like adzuki beans cooking. but why? it would've been our five year anniversary today, so i loaned him $200 and we bitched about his crankcunt mother. yesterday was pissy. i couldn't manage to leave my bed. all i could do was bitch about corporations and wonder why they wanted to cheat and lie to me. it hurt my face and heart, so i stopped thinking about it, or tried. i couldn't clean or be productive for the longest time, until i got some aural soy juice and rubbed beige satin on my face for two hours and was rejuvenated and went until the wee morning. watched queen of the damned (aaliya, you were so fucking surreal) and bought two cds:-- blood brothers- crimes and finally brent randall, altho i've enjoyed it many times already.

i can hear the mice chewing on something in my kitchen. how many fucking more remain?

10 ghosts of valentine's past

you, the lucky reader get a glimpse into my valentine's day past, from 1994 onward. something you should know is that our school sold balloons with messages on ribbons as a fundraiser to be delivered during the last two classes of the day. it was a big deal as you can well imagine.

1994: w bought me 9 balloons. i feel as if i'm married to him. i'm in love. he bought me duff mckeggan's solo tape. he talked about suicide.

1995: i got two valentine's from the kids i babysat, one from a 48-year old prisoner, and none from my family. i watched natural born killers with r and ate easter creme eggs. i received no balloons but delivered one to a boy i liked from another girl. n said i could have hid drums if he died.

1996: i miss a. r gave h bride 20 balloons. this was revolting. altho twisted, i wish he could be with her so he could be happy. i like n, but i don't want to ruin what we have.

1997: we had supper with apple wine. shake n' bake chicken, frozen vegetables, rice and pumpkin pie which i made myself. i dressed in black velvet and my slippers. we even shut oprah off to eat our dinner. we made passionate love. n gave me five balloons, which were supposed to be black.

1998: n was in the city, but said the bus from dartmouth was too dangerous so he couldn't come see me until sunday.

1999: in kentville. we argued about image and i deliberated over cutting my hair. begrudgingly, n agreed to watch a documentary on sex, and we used what we learned to have "great, heavy and erotic foreplay and wonderful, pleasurable sex." i also suffered from my first intestinal spasm and had a shitty ride home on an acadian lines bus.

2000: i broke up with n a month ago. i wanted to call him and apologize for my abruptness on the phone last time we spoke. love is being calm, patient, honest and real, happy, satisfied, adventurous, open-minded and empirical.

2001: went to see hannibal with g. we ate harvey's veggie burgers. my ass hurts and i have to go for surgery tomorrow. i haven't had sex in weeks. my vag hurts from solo action.

2002: a dumbass day that supersucked. we tried to watch atlantis but it was crap and we were tired. oh this is pointless. vday is pointless. g had good intentions with renting atlantis.

2003: three bourbons and not being drunk. i miss having g in bed. i wanted to have sex today.

2004: (a poem written late, while stoned)

i didn't spend it with my lover
i didn't spent it 'neath the cover(s)
i didn't even celebrate
tho bro and i (got) inebriate(d)
off licker if that (sicker) counts
off pot i mean
and not off bounce
and watched gay tv until we were right RAIGHT
and he is not and i am straight
i'm fat as whales
bejeesus those
eat skinny chips, fuck pantyhose
our parents parents are cooler than guessed
same clothes tomorrow- i'm already dressed
goodnite, yo self
goodnight so quiet
not loud no streets no college riots
just cows (so calm) and lovely fam
so fun so fucked
i say HOT DAMN.

mouse liberation front

big j, yo bro-- i got forgot to tell you-- you're both part of the mouse liberation front with soymilk and i. when a mouse makes plastic shaking noises because he's trapped in a grey live-release victor, it's a pair of us who leads him to freedom-- whether he needs to be shaken to leave the dark box, or whether he leaps out at us and bounds down citadel hill like a greyhound who's just heard the shot that means go (i guess we know which mouse this was-- ahem! jumping out of the cupboard at us-ahem!). we are the mouse liberation front. we catch mice using good-for-nothin'-else whole wheat snair's bread and some shit brand of peanut butter. not one, but both. a mouse fucking sandwich. this is the way the mice at maynard like it. two in a week is our count so far-- two mice tempted by the very food on which ernest hemmingway wrote all his best works. we're not finished yet, tho. another mouse has been spotted-- no fucking surprise. the traps have been reset-- thanks to agent yo bro. the beads of sweat and piss, the caked on shit has been removed to the best of our collective ability. the smell of fear has been washed from the traps. come out come out wherever you are. we'll release you with your family on the hill. we won't stop until the census at maynards street shows:
mouse population: 0.
you're lucky we're kind-- else we'd annihilate you.

he pants she pants we all pant for pants

the orchestra was a gay ole time.
r was on fire. captivation to the extreme.
my mind was elsewhere almost the entire remainder of the time.
elsewhere=everywhere.
my back was numb.
what are clarinet perspectives and why should i care?
what are neti pots and why should you care?
i can fit into my first pair of pants-- july's incentive jeans.
i was told my ass looked good in them.
i spoke to c to the r to the even tho he couldn't speak to me so easily. this saved my heart from sliding any further into muck.
i saw hick today with his fiancee. my seventh ex-boyfriend to get married.
congratulations (read: better you than me. oh, and i'm better than her.)

bizarre bitch tits and hummus

i'm used to people googling bizarre sexual things and finding my blog. at least every couple of days, some cat looking for fucking machines or to be machine fucked or for instructions on brazilian bikini waxing or to see someone being fucked on their period is directed to my site. occasionally, a student looking for a margaret lawrence bio, to listen to the skeletor/beastman cky4 song or to learn about MBT shoes may be slightly enlightened-- or not. but last night, i found a real doozy of a pair of googlings that inspired a serious chuckle and then quizzical noggin scratching as i wondered what i wrote about to direct enquiring minds to my period when looking for:

1) bizarre pumped saline tits

2) bitch tits and soymilk

but nevertheless, ha.
and then i was partially comforted and felt a little better about myself when someone was innocently searching for:
hummus + "nova scotia" truro, but at the same time, a little disappointed.

ababaabbaabb

while the snail was a slimin'
the mouse he was fleein'
as i cleaned the snail shit
and i was so mad i was peein'

i was outsmarted my a mouse
i was outsmarted in my house
i was out-run by a snail
i feel conquered enough to be in jail

i am so so so relaxin'
this day has been far from taxin'
oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah oh yay
twice for both in just one day

youbroughther, you truro

after a breakfast of the succulent medjool dates left on my nightstand, i rode the bus (with soymilk) home. it was cool until dartmouth where a generous handful of loudmouthed yeahyeahyeahs (really nopenopenopes) got on, sat behind us and forced us to reach for the tunes. at one point, tho, i yanked out my earpiece because a girl behind me was telling an adoption story and i was hooked. it got happier and happier and i got sadder and sadder. she read the card her birth mother sent her "i was saying how this year was gonna be a good one and now it is because i'm gonna meet you, i can't wait, i was gonna look for you this year but you've found me and it's gonna be so awesome bla bla bla..."

"and oh isn't that sweet oh you must be so excited bla bla bla," blas the friend...

and my heart breaks.

and the girl continues on,"yeah my mom's a journalist and she lives in vancouver and even tho she's gonna come down here to meet me i'm also gonna go there to her place because she just has so much to show me she couldn't possibly drag it all along with her."

" yeah, she must have so many photos of her family that you must look so much like... omigod!" blas the friend. "yeah her and her partner are gonna have dinner with my parents and i and like i just don't know where to sit, i don't want to sit between the two families cause i don't like want it to be like a battle even tho i don't think it would be. i think i'll sit between the two moms..."

i'm trying not to listen. i'm plugging my ears. soymilk's tuned into tunes and when i let him know what's going on, he quickly offers me his headphone too. i crank the tunes. i can still hear them, possibly because i'm straining to do so, despite my geminian best efforts to not listen. i'm crying. he's consoling me. i request beastie boys. i rock out as much as possible. thankfully the girls get off the bus in truro: where my who_e mother pushed me out of her vag once and forever.

five alive: more dead than alive

it was so rotten to get out of bed today. no shortage of hate and misery. a shortage of cash, tho, thus explaining why i bothered showing up at work. the moments worth being alive for today were five:
1) wake and blake
2) the kisses i received on quinpool road
3) the piece of chocolate almond fudge clif bar
4) the huge snail that came all the way from california on the collard greens
5) the farway voice that altho a bit off himself, was still so comforting
and the sixth best thing about today is about to happen: falling asleep.

a ding-dingin' at my door

who the christ rang my doorbell three times at midnight?
yeah, we were up, but we were real comfortable.
and it was midnight... and it could've been a hood.
we would've been more likely to answer our phone.
sorry if you needed help or were in trouble--
but it's not as if we had a block parents sign in the window.