Creampuff Revolution

Ding dong - the skunk habitat is gone

As some of you may recall, the abandoned house next door has been the cause of some anxiety, mainly around the skunk and how it lived there.

Since Emmy Lou was pwned by the skunk, we haven't had a problem with it coming into our yard but I would still smell it out and about from time to time. Skunks don't hibernate but they are less active in the winter, so as spring slowly thought about approaching, I started to get a little more anxious about the stank which the warm weather might bring back into our lives.

Until yesterday.

Our neighbourhood is a bit of a construction zone at the moment - they bulldozed an abandoned house just down the alley from us a few weeks ago and last month, the house kitty-corner to ours caught fire and is in the process of being "restored" by "restoration experts" who "smoke pot" on their "lunch hour" near "my dog". 

So when yet another large piece of construction equipment showed up, I didn't really notice - until it started to feel as if a giant was stomping on the abandoned house next door. OMG - was a giant stomping on the house next door?? Or was the development that we heard about from the city last summer finally about to begin??

It turns out it wasn't a giant. I beetled out with the dog and became the weirdo who records 20 minutes of not very interesting footage of the house next door being slowly chewed up by a large, T-Rex-like machine.

Here's the house before it got eaten by a giant orange machine:

And here it is after day of debris clearing:

We work from home and so obviously, the fact that there's going to be a huge amount of construction next door for months and months sucks a lot of wang. But on the other hand FUCK YOU SKUNK!!!!!! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

I learned to use iMovie to commemorate this occasion. I hope you enjoy my stellar camera work.

 

Creampuff and the Mystery of the Travelling Pants

As some of you may recall, I started reading a lot of fundamentalist Christian blogs last year and here's the thing - I AM STILL READING THEM. 

I've definitely cut down a little on my fundie reading and now only REALLY enjoy the ones that are basically about:

• Farming for Jesus


• Homeschooling their one million tiny children


• Pretending to be Laura Ingalls Wilder (i.e. romanticizing homesteading, wearing period costume and waiting for a husband).

While I still read these blogs with fascination and horror, I did notice that the sheer industry of these bloggers was starting to rub off on me.

Sure, I wholeheartedly disagree with their politics and lifestyle choices but they also made me want to bake more and maybe do some canning. Maybe it's the survivalist edge to a lot of these blogs that's really attractive - I am a sucker for WTSHTF (When The Shit Hits The Fan) planning.

With my diligent stay-at-home-daughter fundie bloggers in mind, I decided that this year, I too would be a little more diligent with my around the house duties. So as one of my unwritten New Year's Resolutions, I decided that I would step it up a little on my own homestead. Just a little - I still needed lots of time to watch Dexter (just started Season 5!), knit, play Kingdom Rush on my iPad and take my dog on meandering walks.

I decided that:

• I would never go to bed without cleaning the kitchen


• I would do the laundry once a week and fold it the SAME DAY instead of willy nilly doing laundry and then having the unfolded clean laundry pile higher and higher to the point where it toppled over whenever Katr went in there to find socks


• I would empty the dishwasher promptly in the morning (preferably while Katr's coffee was percolating, so that I could feel the thrill of "multi-tasking")


• I would make sure to always add Emmy Lou's "Healthy Mouth" liquid whenever I filled up her water, even though it is kind of a hassle. I reminded myself that adding Healthy Mouth was less of a hassle than paying $2000 for dental surgery, which we did a year and a half ago.


• I would finish any chores (tidying, meal prep, folding etc.) before I got to do any fun things

None of these are in any way earth-shattering, but for a procrastinator like me, "getting things done" instead of "waiting until I was annoyed by things" was a total delight and after nearly three months of this behaviour, I was quite proud of myself and also, if I'm honest, was feeling a little smug about my housekeeping abilities. Until this morning, when I lost a pair of Katr's pants.

I went do a load of jeans this morning (Friday is "Extra Jeans Washing" day, where every two weeks I WASH THE JEANS - I hope you're writing this down) and I couldn't find one pair of Katr's jeans. A statewide FBI manhunt ensued, where I tore the bedroom, laundry area, occasional laundry-drying area and my own brain apart trying to figure out how I'd misplaced a pair of pants in our (in my mind) perfectly kept home.

Clearly, despite all of my extremely superior housekeeping skills, I had FAILED. I was crushed. How did this happen?? Where could they BE?? And why was this happened when I was BEING SO DILIGENT??

I gave up the search because I had to get to work. And so the location of the pants remains a mystery. And guys - I'm trying to just let go and let God on this one. Because I know that's what my fundies would do. Because that's all they ever fucking talk about.

Creampuff's Fuddy Duddyism Rewarded

As some of you may recall, my MIND WAS BLOWN a few years back when the Edmonton Public Library tweeted me about a book called Ultimate Porno. Since then, I like to think I'm hip to the ways of the internet and their ability to comment on experiences I've made public, yet still consider somehow to be private - but sometimes, the magic of the internet still surprises and thrills me.

Behold.

I posted last week about MY AWESOME BIRTHDAY TRIP and how it was awesome. I also briefly mentioned the annoying frat kids in the pool...but only briefly, because the rest of the weekend deserved a lot more attention.

While I devoted very little copy space to the frat kids in my blog post, I spent a lot more time on it in my Trip Advisor review, which I faithfully wrote upon our return. Here is the paragraph in question if you're too lazy to click:

My ONLY complaint had nothing to do with the hotel itself - a huge group of rowdy, heavily drinking fraternity kids from Seattle were at the hotel preparing for a booze cruise (because the drinking age in BC is only 19! Wooo! Chug chug chug! OMG, I'm gonna barf!) and they completely took over the outdoor pool and hot tub for a few hours, making it uncomfortable for the few guests (us, another couple) who were there for a quiet swim and who really really wanted a few minutes in the hot tub. Hotel security came out at one point to tell them no alcohol at the pool, but that just made them sneakier. 

Again, totally not the hotel's fault that their pool was invaded by Girls Gone Wild: Vancouver Edition, but it was still annoying.

I LOVE Trip Advisor - for months before Katr and I go anywhere, we spend untold hours perusing the Trip Advisor reviews for every juicy detail (good or bad) about where we might be headed. Because I appreciate reading good, detailed reviews, I try to write detailed reviews as well - it's my way of giving back.

A couple of days ago, Katr got a voicemail on her cellphone from someone at the Pan Pacific, apologizing for the "Ladies...I tentatively use that term" in the pool on the weekend and asking if Katr would please call her back. Baffled, Katr turned to me. 

Katr: How did they know about that?

Me: Ooooh. Well...probably from my Trip Advisor review.

Katr: But how did they figure out to call ME?

Me: Ooooh. Because our room was great? And I included the room number in the review? So that other travellers might experience the room 1910 glory?

Katr: I see. 

Katr suggested that *I* call the Pan Pacific back, since I was the one who *started it*. And that's how I ended up talking to KaPo at the Pan Pacific, who was HILARIOUS.

I got the full scoop on the frat kids - how, after their booze cruise, they managed to break a glass in the pool, which meant the hotel had to drain the pool. Those asshats ruined swimming for EVERYONE! We commiserated over how, in our day, we wouldn't have been staying at 5-star hotels for our teen drunk fests - we'd just go to our local "swimming hole". I also laughed (she didn't) over the previous Trip Advisor review of the Pan Pacific, which is entitled "I slept in someone else's vomit". Frat kids strike again!

Then she offered Katr and I passes to the Pan Pacific's mostly-weekly Opera Buffet, which sounds divine. Thanks, Pan Pacific! We are always ready for hot opera action.

It's funny - I sometimes feel like I missed out on those carefree days of drunken Spring Break-style buffoonery that seem to be a common element in most people's lives. But then I remember that even as a young person, I was a huge square. And I feel very fortunate to have found a lot of other squares to hang out with. Thanks, fellow squares!  

Creampuff Whisked Away

When I was kid, I used to drive my parents crazy around Christmas. They would ask me what I wanted from Santa and I would say "A surprise!"

Because I was a sly and devious child (no, really...I *thought* I was a real mastermind in several areas, such as "It wasn't me, my brother did it" and "I don't know why there's chocolate all over my face"), my parents naturally assumed that I was testing the veracity of Santa by making sure to only tell the "real" Santa (a.k.a. the Santa at the mall) what I wanted for Christmas. I admit, that would be a sly and devious plan - IF I'D THOUGHT OF IT. The reality is that I did not have a burning need for anything in particular and also, I just really liked to be surprised.

Fast forward to my birthday last week. When Katr asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I said "A surprise!" Fortunately, she took me at face value and didn't have to follow me up to the throne and try to listen in as I whispered my birthday wishes to Santa. So she got to work planning what turned out to be a magical birthday weekend of awesomeness.

I like surprises, but Katr has a hard time keeping secrets, which is why she gave me the iPad DODOcase (embossed with my initials!) she got me for my birthday two weeks early:

But she managed to keep my actual birthday plans a secret until a couple of days before, when she informed me that I needed to cut a cheque to our pal and all-around Gal Friday, Boka.

"Why?" sez I.

"Because she will be watching Emmy Lou this weekend," says Katr.

I instantly strain my neck by whipping my hair back and forth in the manner of Willow Smith.

Then, while I applied a cold compress to my neck, she also informed me that the weekend would include:

• Bathing suits
• One fancy outfit
• One "lounging around" outfit

I was overcome with excitement. I LOVE swimming. I LOVE fancy outfits, because usually when you're wearing a fancy outfit, it's because you're waiting for people to feed you really good food. I LOVE lounging around. Good work, Katr.

We packed up Saturday morning and once Boka and her lady friend Cawi had arrived, Katr whisked me off all the way downtown for our birthday destination - the Pan Pacific Hotel. Our room had crazy views, but most of the photos I took looked like I was getting ready to be a jumper.

And also, there were some delightful birthday treats for me:

OMG, these are like crime scene photos suddenly, as I realize I forgot about these truffles - WHERE ARE THEY?? Probably in my giant purse.

After savouring some birthday chocolate, we went swimming in the heated outdoor pool with a lot of frat boys and sorority girls who were up from Seattle to abuse BC's legal drinking age of 19 and were preparing for the evening's booze cruise with a lot of pre-booze cruise drinking and bogarting the hot tub. O, to be 19 again and have all my good stories begin with "I don't know how I got there or whose barf it was!" It made me very smug about being 37.

After a swim, sauna, grooming and general lounging about (that outfit came in handy), we got dolled up and met our friends Elai and Doai (who were equally dolled up) at the Five Sails Restaurant and experienced the best tasting menu we've had in forever. The optional foie gras course...NOT OPTIONAL. If you go there, you must get it. It is SERIOUS.

There was a brief hiccup when Elai and Doai presented me with Seasons 4 & 5 of Dexter and I thought about faking a cramp so that I could go watch it all, right now, ALL OF IT, but they gave it to me on Blu Ray and the hotel does not provide Blu Ray players. BULLET DODGED.

The company was excellent and the food was insanely good. I am shedding a tear right now, just thinking about it. I didn't take any photos, because I was too busy with the eating and also, the drinking. But photos would just make both of us weep, so it's probably best you can't see them.

Sunday morning dawned pearly gray, or so I hear, because we slept through the dawn and well into the morning, waking up only when it became necessary to order breakfast before the room service deadline. And then we lolled about until the early afternoon, when it became apparent that they expected us to leave.

So thank you to Katr for organizing such a delicious birthday surprise!! Thank you to Boka and Cawi, who stayed with our corn-chip scented dog overnight!! Thank you to Elai and Doai for the delightful and sparkling evening and also, the Dexter! Ooo, the Dexter.

I watched the first episode of Season 4 a couple of nights ago. I have seen John Lithgow's ass. I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. It's going to be a good year, gang.

 

Creampuffs at the TED

When Katr first started attending the TED conference, no one I knew had heard about it. It was held in Monterey, CA and I would get to go with her every year and catch glimpses of celebrities like Forest Whitaker and take terrible videos of seals and write deep thoughts at my favourite Monterey cafe Plumes.

Now, eight years later, TED is ubiquitous - I can't go on Facebook without seeing friends posting and reposting thousands of cool TED talks - and instead of going down to Long Beach, where it is now held, Katr is a TED Associate and we livestream the conference here right to our house. TECHNOLOGY!

Photo: James Duncan Davidson

This livestreaming approach has distinct advantages:

a) It is cheaper.

b) I don't have to worry about letting one rip just as Cameron Diaz gets on the elevator at the Portola Plaza hotel. Not that that happened. Twice. Or anything.

c) I get to actually *see* the TED talks instead of just *hearing* about them from Katr and then *thinking* about watching them online but never getting around to it.

Something that always kind of put me off TED was the collective orgasm a lot of folks seems to have over TED (including the organizers). But I have to say, there are some pretty awesome and amazing things going on that were very cool to hear about. 

There were a lot of interesting talks at TED this year but probably my favourites were:

Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate of the US, whose wry wit and action poems just killed me. His poem "The Country" was hilarious and a little awe-inspiring.

Bryan Stephenson, lawyer and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, who gave such a moving and motivating talk about racism in the justice system that he managed to raise 1.2 million dollars towards his latest campaign (to keep kids from being sentenced to adult jail) in less than a day at TED. Because the people at TED are super super rich.

Book designer Chip Kidd, who designed iconic book jackets like the one for Jurassic Park. He was gay, bitchy, hilarious and really got me thinking about "what does a story look like"? Also, he made me slightly ashamed of my new Kobo.

Journalist and writer Jon Ronson, whose latest book is about psychopaths and who shared a few of his stories from his research, with some added audio-visual aid from Evan Grant and Julian Treasure. I'm dying to read his book now, if only to make sure that I don't have too many checks on the Psychopath Checklist.

Ainissa Ramirez, Associate Professor of Mechanical Engineering & Materials Science, who gave a talk about changing the way we educate and inspire kids. My favourite quote was "Scientists fail all the time; we just brand it differently. We call it ‘data.’”

Ainissa Ramirez. Photo: James Duncan Davidson

And Brene Brown, a Houston psychologist, whose talk about shame brought the house down.

I'm sure all of these talks will be online seconds after I write this (so far there are only four posted on the TED 2012 Playlist but I'm sure there are many more to come). In the meantime, you can check out the TED blog for other highlights from this year's conference.

As I mentioned on Facebook, inspired by the brilliant minds we've been hearing from at the TED conference this week, I've decided to take a risk and implement a new pilot project I like to call "No Bridge Mix Left Behind". So far, project is exceeding expectations! I look forward to my invitation to speak at TEDxConfectionary. Anytime, guys. Annnnytime.

 

While the Cat's Away, The Creampuff Is Too Scared to Watch 'Dexter'

It's been a long time since I was REALLY interested in a TV show and wanted to watch multiple episodes at once.

Battlestar Galactica, maybe?

LOST?

 We loved Downton Abbey, but could only do one episode at a time because shit gets real on that show and you need to process. We're waiting for Season 2 to come out on DVD so we can just buy it and savour it and weep on our own time.

Anyway, I noticed that Dexter was newly available on Netflix, I thought "Ein. Well...what the hell?"

And then I COULDN'T STOP WATCHING IT.

Dexter is one of the many shows I know that a lot of my friends watch - but as it turns out, a lot of my friends REALLY love shows that I seriously do not care for. 

I couldn't handle The Sopranos (too much violence).  I tried True Blood, but couldn't really get into it. I WANTED SO BAD to like Mad Men, but I just wanted to punch everyone on it (even Christina Hendricks, whom I've loved since Firefly). I tried The Wire, but even though there was that one lesbian cop, I felt it suffered from TMP (too much penis), causing me to NGAF (not give a fuck).

With all of the shows above, devotees kept saying things like "You need to give it a couple of episodes" or "It gets really good in the second season!". And hey - I get it! I say the same things about shows I like, like Buffy or Parks and Rec! But sometimes you just know that you're not going to give a shit about any of these characters no matter how long you watch the show.

With Dexter, I was hooked immediately - like, 10 minutes in, I was done for. What was it? Michael C. Hall's slight gay vibe left over from Six Feet Under? The fact that there was swearing? Twitchy Jennifer Carpenter's hooker ensemble? No idea.

I plowed through the first season of Dexter pretty quickly and was ecstatic to learn that Katr was going away on a business trip for two nights this week, leaving me time to WATCH DEXTER LIKE IT'S MY JOB get lots of work done. But what I forgot is that I can't watch crime shows when I'm alone at night. Because I am a pussy who is easily freaked out.

Katr left Monday and I was alone with the TV and my thoughts. My thoughts were mainly "If I watch Dexter while Katr is away, I won't be able to sleep. Or if I do sleep, I will dream only of being murdered during a home invasion. But I want to watch Dexter SO BAD!!"

I need to point out here that I also just finished Parable of the Sower, so I'm already on the edge of putting barbed wire up around the house.

I love having the house to myself. LOVE IT. I like eating stupid things and staying up late and leaving pizza boxes strewn about like drunks in the movies. In fact, this week was the very first time I'd been in this house by myself overnight. It should have been a magical, magical time for me to reconnect with my inner filthy loser. 

But because of stupid Dexter, I couldn't wait for it to be over so that I could watch more damn Dexter. I literally counted down the hours until Wednesday, when Katr would be returning. And then on Wednesday,  I...watched a lot of Dexter. So...much...Dexter. And then Katr came home and I slept like a fat rock.

I have only seen to the end of Season 2, so NO SPOILERS. Although I already know that something bad happens to Julie Benz at some point, because like all Buffy nerds, I keep up with what former Buffy actors are up to. But that's ALL I KNOW, so don't tell me anything else!! Okay, thank you.

Oh, also, Netflix only has up to Season 3, so get ready for me to come begging to those of you who might have it on DVD.

 

Academic Creampuff

As many of you know, I'm just not very bright and am still not sure that I even have my Bachelor of Fine Arts, because a) my university went on strike in my final year and b) I refuse to pay my totally bogus library fine to find out if I did indeed graduate.

Despite this complete lack of academic cred, my friend Dr. Jacks still asked me to be a speaker in her undergraduate social science class a couple of years ago - TWICE (the topic was: I'm Fat and Gay and I Don't Give a Shit What You Think - I paraphrase). So every now and then, when I'm feeling dumb, I'll bring it up in conversation, real casual-like.

Me: A similar question came up when I was a guest speaker at UBC.

Barista: Really? "Foam or no foam" came up at UBC? JESUS CHRIST, YOU PRETENTIOUS TWAT, HERE IS YOUR LATTE.

This month, I have another feather to add to my academic cap - my friend and dramaturge Moynan King was curating a volume of the Canadian Theatre Review about Queer Performance - Women and Trans Artists and she asked me to contribute an article about our collaboration on Anne Made Me Gay.

And that's how I ended up getting my name in this fancy academic journal along with a bunch of real academics and other super smart people with interesting things to say about queer performance. HAHAHAHAAA!! 

Please forgive the horrible photo. My hands were shaking with mirth.

My article is called Anne Made Me Gay: When Kindred Spirits Get Naked. Here's the article description:

2008 marked the 100th anniversary of the publication of L.M. Montgomery's classic Canadian novel, Anne of Green Gables. Celebrations for Anne fans were planned across the country, but one key demographic was not represented in the mainstream Anne celebrations: there were no events planned for the “I'm pretty sure Anne made me gay“ Anne fans. In Toronto, two lesbians decided to create a cabaret by and for queer lovers of Anne, to help us explore Anne's influence on our young gay selves and to celebrate the red-headed snippet who taught us to live passionately, speak eloquently and really dig on other girls. This is the story of that cabaret.

Much of this issue is about the grand tradition of the queer cabaret - so naturally, Moynan decided to celebrate the launch with - you guessed it - a queer cabaret!

Sadly, I will not be there but there are lots of other amazing queer artists performing at this thing and if you're in Toronto on February 26, you would do well to attend "Explain Yourself". Plus, if you're a top, or you bring a top with you, admission is cheaper! Apparently, this event will be a great place to meet tops.

If you don't know what that means, you probably aren't ready for this cabaret.

I'm not sure what's next for me, academically speaking - I suspect this may mark the zenith of my academic achievement. Then again, who's to say that nepotism won't strike again? This time next year, I could be accepting an honorary degree from Yale! Or, morely likely, Brigham Young University. Mustn't get ahead of myself.

Creampuffs at the Spa

As I fleetingly mentioned in my post about our trip to Mexico, Katr and I want to the spa on the very first day we were there.

Katr went because she LOVES the spa. She loves being exfoliated. She loves being wrapped in seaweed. She loves being rubbed for money. She doesn't care who sees what in the confines of the spa. She loves it.

I, on the other hand, don't really enjoy strangers touching me and want to throw up in my mouth a little when I think about experiencing the above-noted spa activities. I do not love the spa. But I do love Katr. And since it was her birthday and since we were in Mexico, I agreed to throw caution to the wind and join her in what the resort spa called the "Humanity Ceremony for Two".

Me and Katr at the spa, being human together. Oh, wait...yeah, this isn't us.

Here's what that means:

HUMANITY CEREMONY FOR TWO
Initiate your private ceremony with pu-erh tea for its detoxifying and calming effects and aura cleansing with sage. Next, enjoy a foot ritual with infused lavender flowers and essential oils followed by a private mud therapy bath for two where you will apply an aromatic exfoliation to each other, revitalizing the skin with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, hazelnut, rice, sesame and bamboo. Your treatment continues with a warm bubbling and nutrient vanilla and orange bath while soothing hands massage the scalp. 

Now that your body and mind are renewed, prepare for a silk sybarite body wrap to restore energy and nurtures your skin. Conclude your Miilé spa indulge with an Excellence Massage treatment.

Basically, this was my worse nightmare. Listen - I am all about pants off at home. But not at home - PANTS ON.

USUALLY when Katr tempts me into the spa, I get a facial (pants on) or a pedicure (pants also on). But this was a full on, three hour pamper fest where, for at least part of it, my ass would be hanging out. Fortunately, we were at an all inclusive resort, so I did what any spa-phobic person would do before their spa appointment - I got a little drunk.

The spa treatment starts off with an hour long hydro-therapy circuit, which is, simply put, the shit. It was basically like a series of Last of the Mohicans-style waterfall scenes, intermixed with scenes you don't see in the film, like the "Dry Sauna of Death" scene, the "I'm rubbing handfuls of crushed ice in your private places" scene or the "Just when you think it's over, there's a drive-by massage, which you don't see coming because there's a lavender-scented towel covering your eyes" scene. Pretty intense, is what I'm saying.

After the hydro therapy circuit had really woken us up, we headed in for the main event.  I have to say that I'm sure the two spa technicians assigned to us were terrified when they saw that Godzilla and Mothra had arrived for their Humanity Ceremony, but they were very professional and lovely.

There was some delicious tea. There was the side-by-side foot ritual (the "ritual" was that they "rubbed" our "feet" with some kind of "oil".)

Then it was time for the "private mud therapy bath". This, I must admit, was the sole reason I'd agreed to do this thing - because I thought that rubbing mud all over each other in a steam room would be super hilarious and fun. 

As it turns out, it was indeed super hilarious - because the steam room was a very tight fit (even for average sized people it would have been wee) and also, the "mud therapy" was about two tablespoons of shizz per person. So basically, we squeezed into this steam closet and had enough "mud" to exfoliate one body part each. I chose my left elbow. It felt really great.

Then there was this part where you get into a jetted tub and they rub your head for like half an hour and you try to convey to the spa technician - through hand signals and constant giggling - that the intense farting sounds she's hearing are due to the tub jet friction against the bathing suit you refused to take off and not you just letting 'em rip one after an other after another.

Following the head-rub-tub was the silk wrap. This is where the shit got real. Pants were off and some kind of silk lotion was slathered on and then we were trussed up in plastic and covered with blankets and left alone on our tables with plinky plonky music playing. I expected to be panicking but instead, I fell asleep. Thank god for the 4 mimosas I'd had for breakfast.

I was awakened by my spa lady, Rosa, busting into my plastic tube and ushering me off to the shower. And then...came the massage.

It's been a long time since I had a massage. Like maybe 2006. And to be honest, I was kind of expecting a plinky plonky spa massage. But no. Tiny Rosa climbed on and gave 'er. She used her forearms, her elbows and all of her weight to work out whatever the hell was going on in my shoulders and back. I have never been in so much weirdly therapeutic pain. I had no choice but to breathe through it and offer it up to Jesus. And Jesus said "Yeeeeaaaaah...I'm good, thanks. You hang on to that."

Worked over, lotioned up and exhausted, Katr and I staggered out of the treatment room to the recovery gazebo, where we drank some juice that tasted way too good to be made of actual fruit. And then, we tipped. A LOT.

Katr was very appreciative of my participation in the Humanity Ceremony for Two and as you know, I live to please her.  So you'd think I'd be off the hook for spa fun for at least a year or two.

But then again, a certain Katr got a gift certificate for this place at Solstice. And she keeps whispering things like "Steam cave!" and "Glacial waterfall!" in my ear when she thinks I'm sleeping. I think we all know where this is going. It's going to be Last of the Mohicans alllll over again.

 

Creampuff Gets the Shift

My former roommate, Jesk, had a friend in law school who we'll call Joba. Joba was a perfectly nice fellow - very smart and also, tall. It was obvious to everyone, including Jesk, that Joba had a sizeable crush on her. And while she enjoyed his company as a friend, she was not in any way romantically interested in him. 

Unfortunately, Joba, for whatever reason, felt unable to declare his love outright - and therefore, Jesk was unable to let him down gently. Instead, Joba would just hang around near Jesk, acting like her boyfriend and cockblocking her endlessly at parties and the like.

This went on for YEARS and frustrated Jesk to no end. FINALLY, Joba asked her to go to a movie (but still in ambiguous, non-romantic terms). Jesk fell on this opportunity like a starving dog and said she'd love to go to the movie AS FRIENDS, RIGHT? BECAUSE I LIKE YOU HAS A FRIEND, ONLY A FRIEND.

Joba responded "Of course only as friends, don't flatter yourself" [I paraphrase] and basically acted like she had suggested he was asking her to shit in his mouth.

While his complete denial of his crush on Jesk was still annoying to her (and me, because I had to hear about it endlessly), he did back off after that, which was nice. Don't feel badly for him - his mad dating skillz clearly improved after this incident. I see from stalking him just now on Facebook that he just married a really good looking young lady. Kudos, Joba. Kudos.

Anyway, I was thinking about this story of failing to declare intentions and the anger that results the other day when Emmy Lou and I were enjoying a walk on a rare sunny day in our neighbourhood.

As we drew near the JJ Bean, I noticed a fellow across from the coffee shop looking shifty. Kind of noodling around like he was talking to himself, nothing particularly weird. But because Emmy likes to stop and sniff regardless of my proximity to shifty people, I decided to cross the street so as to not get involved with whatever was happening.

A few minutes later, we reached a park and lo and behold, Shifty Guy was there, walking up to towards us on the path! "Ah well", I thought, "It's a lovely day and shifty guys enjoy the outdoors too." We walked a little farther and then headed down a different path. A few seconds later, I noticed that SG had changed his trajectory and was now headed over to our side of the park.

Huh.

Since my passive aggressive avoidance techniques hadn't worked, I decided to just wait for SG to come over and make his move. He did come over...and then, standing about five feet away from us, he pretended like he was looking for something behind a park bench.

"Okay," I thought, "fine. You had your chance to...whatever your plan was. Now screw off."

Emmy and I slowly made our way back across the park and SG stayed on his bench. Then, he moved to a bench closer to us. And then, he moved to an even closer bench. And then, as we headed back into the neighbourhood, I saw SG get up off his bench and start to follow us.

By this time, I was annoyed and also, a little creeped out. What the hell was going on here? 

We came around the corner onto Commercial again and I made Emmy Lou's day by allowing her to sniff a garbage can while I stood there, facing the corner SG would be rounding shortly. He did come around the corner and we made eye contact. I just stood there and stared at him. Emmy tried to eat a gum wrapper and choked a little. He saw me, blinked away and then, as he walked by me, he actually TURNED HIS HEAD all the way to the other side of the sidewalk, like he was pretending I wasn't there staring at him.

Then Emmy and I started following him.

SG kept walking to the end of the block and then went around the corner across from the JJ Bean, where I'd first seen him. 

Then, because I was nervous SG would follow us home, I took a fairly circuitous route back to the homestead, stopping frequently to make sure no one was following us.

Emmy didn't know what she'd done to merit so many random sniff stops, but she took full advantage of it.

It's been a few days and I'm still annoyed by a) how menaced I felt in broad daylight in my own neighbourhood and b) how because SG, like Joba, didn't declare his intentions, I didn't get the opportunity to end things on my terms.

Also, I still can't decide what his motivation was. Did SG want to:

• Talk to me about Jesus
• Ask me for money
• Suggest we get it on
• Check to see if I was someone he'd previously gotten it on with (hint: no)
• Take money from me without my consent
• Teach me a lesson about avoiding shifty guys by following me around
• Practice his suspect tailing techniques for the police academy (Grade: F)
• Pet my dog
• Ask me for money for Jesus 

 I'd say "History will decide" but the reality is that I'll probably just punch this guy in the nads if I see him again.

Seeking Simone Ep 2.5: Leslie is live!

For those of you whom I did not hassle endlessly yesterday, we hit an exciting Simone milestone when we held the last episode of Season 2 hostage until we got to 1000 Facebook fans.

I was worried that this would blow up in my face, but people were super nice and now we have 1023 fans and the episode is up! Woooo! It is called "Leslie".

This episode was especially fun to film because a few of my favourite Toronto gals - Jeba, Berin, Lex, Sura - showed up to be the extras at the restaurant during Simone's date. Thanks for keeping the rambunctiousness to a minimum, ladies - you are all class!!!