guess who is sick again! yay! FUNNNNNN!

monstergirl’s lesbo perfumes arrived.

she mixed them for me, and they smell great, i think i like the limes des buros slightly more.

right at home in cougar corner.

now it’s no secret that i sweat like a fucking pig so i decided to finally give this clinical stuff a whirl and at $8.49 it BETTER WORK! haha i just picked up on the secret/it’s no secret connection.

and it does, but, it’s either the scent i chose or this stuff smells reminiscent of nair, no jokes guy. i am pumped to be globbing the most extreme of alzheimer’s bait on my arms now yes, when i lose my memory in the future and it’s dementia party time, we can all fondly look back on this blog post.

now on to dinner, we did this recipe but i forgot about the rosemary and in lieu of radicchio we used belgian endives (less bitter turns out, and was a total fluke cos we didn’t know what radicchio looks like). we also didn’t do the calamari part of this dish, we don’t have a bbq.

calls for 8 baby leeks but loblaws only carries these massive guys, parboil ‘em for a few minutes in salt water to get the starch toughness out of them (and to get the ball rolling).

2 endives.

hot chorizo sausage for the dressing.

throw it in hot olive oil and cook ’til the fat renders out (whatever that fucking means) and then add chopped garlic, mix it around for 30 seconds then remove from heat, add three tablespoons of balsamic and squeeze half a lemon on top. that’s your warm dressing and it will give your boner a boner.

cos of no bbq we did a baking sheet with tin foil, you put the leeks in first and dress them in olive oil and salt, brown on both sides, then you add the fennel, dry, brown both sides then cover in the endives (or radicchio) to wilt.

take out the leeks if they got too burny like ours did still, they taste fantastic, like crispy potato chips, on the ends.

drink some scotch and diet coke cos you are on a diet and want to destroy the universe. this took a lot longer to do the veg because of the lack of bbq grill.

mix it all together in a big bowl.

use the spriggy grass airy fairy shit from the fennel as garnish.

i liked it more than fil, i think had i remembered the rosemary he would have dug it more. all in all it is good to try new things, next time i think we’ll avoid the fennel and do it with mesclun greens.

a bit butchered oh well, i’m rusty. this is with my dad’s band Dr. Robert.

uhhhhhh….

ok i’m not a scholar or anything but does this quote not contradict the previous thing? i thought you were giving a seminar on how to NOT be eternal and continuously reincarnating. fucking annex. it’s tonite too.

this is what you are saying to the world when you wear this hat HI I’M A SPOILED LITTLE BABY AND I INTEND TO BE ONE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE DAD BUY ME A HOT DOG RIGHT NOW!

we had a great view of all the skeezy perverts getting these teenager cheerleader’s autographs on their toronto SUN newspaper group photo. i also enjoyed watching the dumpy one of the group totally tranquilize her way through all the dances and cheers, nothing to do with being dumpy? or everything to do with being dumpy? who knows. pitt got fucked over by a scalper who told him he had platinum tickets, well he did to be fair, but one only, so we sat wherever we wanted, no one came by to move us or even look at our tickets.

haha newmarket. fil pointed out that this person thought they were getting a personalized license plate that boasts SWEEEEEEEEEEEET! but really it means SWEEEEEEEAT like the armpits of every guy from hamilton inside that arena yesterday.

then i got this salad for free at the pour house and a round of drinks for us as well cos i called everyone at the bar a straight up alcy and the bartender went roid rage on me – they were all slaggin’ amy winehouse big time and pitt was out smoking, fil in the head and i’m sitting across the way getting fumed at all their barstool prophet insults like how she’s a crackhead whore and a fake jazz singer (fake? um try is a real jazz singer you fucks) and won 5 grammies and other stupid garbage so i think ok i have to say something to these barflies and put them in their place otherwise i am going to silently fume about this for the rest of the nite so i wait for a window of silence and exclaim YOU DON’T LIKE HER BECAUSE SHE REPRESENTS WHAT YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELVES – STRAIGHT UP ALCY then i gesture to my whiskey and them and then the rest of the pub and then the bartender says i am looking into it way too much. then starts barking at me, one of the customers was half cracking a smile at me like finally something clever but the bartender felt like his intelligence was challenged and kept firing it back up again and put his hand in my face and my face got all flushed, like, don’t talk shit about an addict when you are at a pub on a sunday nite by yourself, tell me, how come these guys are allowed to slag her and i am not allowed to chime in? oh it’s cos i’m FUCKING RIGHT and the ‘tender says to me obviously you like her and i say actually i don’t! he says well we are talking abut someone we don’t even know i said so what she is still a human being and you are all being extremely disrespectful and i’m just telling you what i think and i didn’t say it in a cruel way at all this didn’t turn nasty until YOU made it nasty. anyway our waiter picked up on all of this and sent the manager over, fil walked in on half of it and was like why is he talking to you like that? bartenders are supposed to be impartial when it comes to this shit. ungh there is lots more but honestly i don’t care, i’m glad i said what i said and i did not exclude myself from the whole alcy label either. they treated me like some feminist from the 80s who tattles on you for pinching their bum by the water cooler.

the pour house is now officially boycotted.

it started because the rehab song was on and in the brief period of silence between the ‘tender trying to fight with me again (after he put his hand up to silence me and barked IT’S OVER IT’S DONE! when i was explaining myself) the part in the song when she goes iii don’t eeevar wanna drink again played and i chuckled to myself and the he demands to know about her albums because apparently i’m her number 1 super fan now i’m all i don’t know and that’s not even the point. fuck it was so awkward. i basically got bullied cos i was sitting alone but once pitt and fil turned up they all shut up and moved to the other end of the bar to talk shit about me.

i am never talking to or acknowledging strangers ever fucking again in this fucking city.

and stop giving me “advice” on dieting and carbs and all that already, you guys seem to think i’m a helpless idiot or something, i’ve lost 4lbs, i’ve done this before so NO MORE ADVICE THANK YOU.

oh i called the spinach hot line and i have to bring loblaws the wood and the packaging and my receipt and i will get my 1.19 back and then whenever their little quality control investigation is wrapped i’ll get some coupons.

get ready for someone pissed me off story time!

so on our way into the ‘burbs we stopped off at red room so i could run in and give emily her popsicle painting then before i went back to the car i went to that variety store to get an energy drink (no carbs equals tired doods!) and as i scan the fridges and turn to go to pay i see two hipsters, one of which at first i honestly thought was an old lady cos she was small and crouched over and wearing a kerchief like your nona wears when she beats the rugs, anyway, the other hipster is this tallish guy (blond hair big calico framed spectacles) wearing leather metrosexual pointy cowboy boots, he looks a bit haggard and i think he’s gay, anyway, he is totally ignoring the girl hipster who is rambling on and on and on in this irritating nasally monotone speak like a full on monologue and i’m digging in my purse and i tune in to what she is saying and she’s talking about hair treatments and long hair and that’s what she would do if she had long hair and because 1. her friend is NOT paying attention to her at all 2. she is facing me and talking about long hair i think she is talking to me, so as not to be rude i say in a jokey airhead voice “are you talking to me?” and then there is a mile long pause and she “comes to” in this fucking valley girl voice uh NO i was talking to him and me and gay dude exchange a smile (he’s like even i couldn’t tell if she was talking to me expression on his face) and the cashier of the store starts chuckling because he’s been listening to her fucking prattle on and on about whatever the hell for way too long and my puncturing her essay to the world was like a fucking relief, so, she and her friend walk away and JUST before they exit the store she exclaims GET OVER YOURSELF! in her valley girl voice too and cos i’m mid-exchange with the cashier and him still chuckling over my are you talking to me line (really it wasn’t even funny to begin with) i couldn’t run after her and scratch her fucking eyes out, i did mutter you muuutherfucker like joe pesci in goodfellas though. when i got out of the store i was right on their heels and stood on the sidewalk gaping at the back of her fucking head and contemplated running after her and calling her a cunt to her face or ripping out her hair HOW DARE SHE! i was being NICE and i’m not the one talking about hair treatments and boring my friend to fucking death on a saturday afternoon in a variety store she is the one who needs to get over herself! i wanted to spit on the back of her head and if i was wearing appropriate running shoes I WOULD HAVE!

if you know this girl (platinum blond hair, haggard face, late 20s) total fag hag who was at the variety store on the south west corner of spadina and college (beside the poolhall) saturday afternoon just before 5pm TELL HER I WANT A FUCKING SHOWDOWN asap!

should i have body-checked her? what would you have done?

maybe if i looked like a tiny little troll like her, she would have been nice to me? and for future reference if you DON’T want a girl with long hair to think you are talking to her DON’T TALK ABOUT LONG HAIR AND TREATMENTS AND BE LOOKING AT HER WHEN YOU ARE TALKING AND DON’T HAVE A FRIEND WHO IS TOTALLY TUNING YOU OUT AT THE SAME TIME!

so the gum thief is bumming me out pretty much cos every other paragraph is a character talking about the end of the world, like come on coupland are you STILL doing that? also there is a goth girl who says the word damaged way too much, even once is too much, plus goth? old. pudgy goth chicks infuriate me, spoiled little babies who live with their mothers and blog “witty” one-liners they bark out at them over breakfast. they’re famous for women hating too.

every character in this book (in every one of his books actually) is exactly the same caliber of clever, the probability of striking up a random chit-chat rant conversation with a customer at a staples, a customer who is equally clever as you in every way and bears the exact same views on potato skins? insulting my intelligence much? coupland is kevin smithing himself and i hate it. only stupid people enjoy kevin smith, why? because they’re stupid and unoriginal and to them kevin smith is the most clever person in the world, to them he is magical and they feel intelligent when they watch his films over and over again because all of the dialogue is memorized and they feel part of the special i memorize dialogue in movies i love club, hey? why not read a fucking book instead! read the gum thief you’ll be right at home! does kevin smith write books? if so i want to read one just to know that i am right. about everything. all the time.

i’m probably never going to meet douglas coupland now.

sigh.

i did enjoy that one of the characters is an alcoholic though, but it’s sort of only glossed over, so far i haven’t been able to go on a bender with him, yet. i half-dig the staples setting, but not the smugness of that fucking goth chick who works there, because working at a staples with 40-something co-workers gives her another reason to be smug, and martyr-like. how about stop the cry baby emo thing, fuck off with that black lipstick and meet some real people.

fil and i just did it and then i took a power dump. me!

oh i also cleaned the bathroom last nite after weeks and weeks and weeks of closing my eyes when i go in there and totally deluding myself. tip to motivating yourself into cleaning the bathroom: vodka, invite people over, sit on the couch marinating in your vodka buzz and picturing guests in your bathroom. get to work. inspires boyfriend to windex the coffee table and takes all credit for cleaning “just for them?” when they walk through the door.

and yes i am a total bitch when it comes to your love of kevin smith, i’m sorry you like him so much. will we be able to get passed this?

you can all shut up cos i lost 3lbs already, jokes. well no jokes i DID lose 3lbs but the jokes is cos i always lose 3lbs, i am always down to 137 and then back at 140 every other day but THIS TIME my body feels like it is for real going to stay at 137. holy shit vodka soda is the boringest drink in the universe. i play it up a lil and do lime or lemon perrier and last nite i added a splash of lime minute maid juice but still i somewhat felt like a contestant in the boring binge drinking drinks olympics. wendi and britt came over and we watched heathers and now i have this unquenchable thirst for shoulder pads and meanness. britt had just wrapped a video she was happy about and she received a what-for email from one of the band members about something she let slip in a facebook closed event and it bruised his fragile emo rock ego boohoo so last nite during the movie i was helping her word her fuck me? fuck you! email back to him but we all agreed she should sleep on it and wait for him to reply to the first email she sent. she sends the laundry list message anyway. here are some of my catch phrases “conflict of interest” “in summation” “maybe i fucked up” “i felt poorly” i can’t really remember the other ones but they were goodies.

so fil owed me some benjamins and i put them toward an expensive bottle of vodka that i planned to make last, fil bought an expensiveish bottle of scotch called te bheag (accent-agu over the e in te, such writ-technology eludes poor old me) because it looks like TEA BAG which i of course pointed out and anyway tastes like cheap old ballantine’s, so this vodka of mine is basically almost all gone now cos fil took a fancy to it as did wendi. sigh.

oh britt and brad are on the gibson tour bus right now with some tweenager fan girls (who won a contest) to go to detroit to see those kids who have pledged to be virgins until marriage, what are they called oh the jonas brothers. i am jealous of how novelty-fun that day-trip sounds.

i’ll be back in a few to talk some S about the gum thief.

also my calf muscles are stupidly sore from the pathetic amount of dance steps performed in my shitty dance videos.