Gongaga Yaoi: Diary [2005, March-May]

March 2nd: Holy crap, people are seriously on edge. I don’t know if it’s the cold snap or what, but both times I took a bus today, there was some calamity.
Going to work this guy started freaking out at everybody who was coughing. He kept hitting the seats and poles with this rolled up magazine and shouting, even at me.
I just avoided eye contact and stayed in a state of catlike readiness. Fortunately, that’s as far as that incident went.
On the way home from anime (which was AWESOME, by the way), however, it was much more violent. The minute I tried to get on the bus at the subway station, some guys punched another guy out.
Story goes the guy that got punched had his feet out and accidentally tripped one of the attackers. At any rate, there was blood everywhere, so the bus couldn’t run, and medics were called- very retarded, if you ask me.
Especially since I had to stand out in the cold for another twenty minutes waiting for another bus.
Seriously, it’s a busted nose. Live with it, start the bus, don’t go licking blood of the seats.
Those are life lessons to all of you.

March 4th: Laurel’s frat party happened today after work, which was a lot of fun. Dorian was my bodyguard for the night, so I had to wait for him at the studio- which involved one game of poker for me, and three for the rest of the attendants (see? Gambling addiction under control).

The First Poker Rant Nobody Cares About:
I did pretty well, but I had shit hands for the whole time. I had two good hands, and took two pots, but the rest of the time it was all crap, and I had to fold. I actually got haggled for folding on good hands, which I totally didn’t have, but it was funny. “Two queens, fuck it! Somebody out there might have kings. Fold.”
For that hand Jay’s girlfriend took the pot- either because she played totally bullheaded or because she had good hands. Who knows.

So Dorian returned from the circus and arrived at the studio at around 9:30. Rug and I were the last stragglers, so the three of us locked up and parted ways with Rug.
Laurel’s party was awesome- it was great to see her again, and her friends were a lively bunch.
Music debates abounded, as did questionable Jell-o shooters. True to form (as I remember her) Laurel completely screwed the recipe over, and added a bit too much vodka to the grape shooters, and had to even it out.
The only flavor they had was lemon.
So the lemon grape shooters were born. Too bad nobody had a camera, because people’s faces on their first shot were hilarious.
I spent a good portion of the night reminissing loudly about Laurel to her friends, much to her embarrassment. Inviting old friends to a party is like inviting your mom to meet your friends. ;)
After the festivities simmered, poker was played, which drove the non-attendees into the kitchen.
Man, nothing clears a room like cards- seriously.

The Second Poker Rant Nobody Cares About:
So I went into the game in attempts to show Laurel’s friend how to play. We were on a team, and the buy-in was 2$. With four people playing, that was a massive EIGHT DOLLAR pot. LoL.
I was the first out, mainly because I had to whisper strategy to my partner, who would react obviously to every hand we had. :p
We also had the painful cards of suited hands EVERY time. Now, the old adage goes, “never throw away a suited hand”, and this seemed to ring especially true after several Jell-O-Shooters and a couple drinks of Sangria.
So we cowgirled it up, and went out. Then my partner welshed without paying.
The remaining game went on, FOREVER. They were playing blinds up at every out, but with only four players, that ended up with a game that lasted for hours longer than it should have.
I thereby became dubbed, The Poker Nazi, for staunchly enforcing blinds every 15 minutes.
Finally, after having the blinds up a couple more times, Dorian took the hand. Which is great, seeing as he seems to have had fun.
I suspect a new poker player at the table tomorrow. ;)

The party came to a close at around 3am, where I attempted to get home by a tram that never came, and instead chose to be verily ripped off by a cab and get home in strangely odoured comfort.
And tomorrow night? BOY BALLZ!!! COMFORT ZONE! BE THERE!

March 5th: I slept in- a feeble attempt to have enough energy to last through the Boy Ballz show. I wanted to nap a bit, but Dorian called me down to the studio early with promise of an awesome surprise- which turned out to be weed.
Is it strange that I was hoping for cookies over narcotics?
Yes.
People started trickling in shortly after Dorian, me, Ade and Deni had arrived.
For a time we were looking through Tom Green’s blog. Now, as a blogger, you start to develop a picture of what each person’s blog would be like. Deni (who came up with the quote) and I sort of pictured Tom Green’s blog to be more of a “OMFG LOL LOLOLOL! I totally pwned my MOM YESTERDAY! HAahHAHahah!”. But, strangely enough, we were both wrong. Tom Green is a day-to-dayer, people. He got up, and ate a piece of toast, then brushed his teeth. :p

Poker Crap you can Skip if so Inclined:
Poker finally got started, sushi was ordered, and I had another round of shitty hands.
But I kept resurrecting myself. Whenever I would go all in, I’d win the pot. It happened three or four times, then I was taken down.
I had paired twos, Brad had squat, Queen came up on the river. He won. Blah.
At least the spicy tuna rolls were good.

Once poker wrapped up (with Brad the ultimate victor), we headed down to Comfort Zone to see the Ballz.
On first impression, Comfort Zone is really confusing. It’s a basement, it’s a labyrinth, the “heated smoking patio” ended up being a tent out back, and it has the most glaring UV light I’ve ever seen. EVERYBODY looked like a monster. Yet, as Weed tells me, this is supposedly a come down place kids get to after the raves are over.
Somehow, it didn’t seem like a place I’d like to come down, especially considering the state of the bathroom with no doors.

Just before the Ball went on, Weed and I ran into Scottie, who was being theatrical and making the band wait for his glorious entrance through the masses.
Yep, the ones helping Scottie procrastinate? Right here.
But finally he got up on stage and the band started.
A few Tequila shots later, Weed and I ended up near the back of the crowd.
I attempted to rally the less vocal fans into waving, clapping and hollering, but they weren’t having it- Particularly the couple snogging like they were alone. These two in front of us were putting on their own miniature porn, straight in the middle of the BBallz show.
When the Boys claimed to inspire debauchery and sin, I thought it was just a gimmick. =p
So the show rocked on, and following the BBallz were the Zubaums, which I’ve probably spelled entirely wrong.
They’re a Japanese band that’s been touring with the Ballz. They really weren’t half bad- had a sort of techno/noise flavour going on, which isn’t exactly my thing, but I was all over the more melodic parts of the show. Not to mention, these guys were HIGH energy (and apparently completely sober on stage).
They didn’t have any pauses between songs, and they did at least two encores.
The remaining Smiley Guys couldn’t match their stamina- we left during the encore, and returned to the studio.
Dorian, Weed and I walked back together, through a sea of police men. People seemed to be just generally rowdy and insane, and I’ve never seen College so busy on a Saturday.
Usually when I work Sat, it’s relatively quiet on the street.

In one of the pockets of people outside, we met up with Duncan! He just happened to be at the Cloak and Dagger as we walked by.
So we invited him to join the after party at the studio, and headed down to meet up with the rest of the Smileys.
I managed to hang out until about 4am, at which point I was falling asleep on a couch and freezing to death, so I decided to pack it in.
I had the fleeting notion that I would catch a tram home, but after a 10 minute wait, I gave up. It wasn’t actually bad weather; I was just shivering like blah.
So I cabbed it, and went right to bed. Around 5am.
Now it’s the next day, and at 2:45pm, I’ve finally managed to claw my way out of bed.

March 8th: In my short life, I’ve been to countless punk shows, but only one “actual” concert.
This was Blink 182 (I believe. Jeez I can’t even remember who it was) at Canadian Concert Week in Sudbury. Now, if you know Sudbury, you’ll understand the only reason I attended this was out of sheer boredom.
Somehow, the people running Canadian Concert Week had the notion that a small mining town would be populated by reasonable folk. That concert ended with the band quitting because everybody was insanely rowdy, and some kid broke his leg.

So let’s disregard that entirely, and say I went to my first official concert today. DEATH FROM ABOVE!
A band I actually like, paid money to see, and was playing at a legitimate venue… Rather than some guy’s attic.
The Smiley Guys and I headed down to the Opera House at around 9:30- thanks to Rug and his awesomeness for driving us : ).
Once we were patted down by security, Dorian and I scoped out places on the second balcony, where I had a relatively clear view of the band: all two of them. I was amazed to see this drummer play. Not only did he work the kit, he also sang.
The renditions of the songs were really well done, though the sound wasn’t spectacular. That seemed to be mainly the venue’s fault, though.
One thing I must say about Death from Above is that they’re musicians, but not performers by any means. They stage bantered three times, two of which involved insulting the audience.
If you’re going to play metal, expect some stage diving. I’m just saying, five security guards rushing onto stage weren’t really necessary to stop one mofo from trying to be a star.
Set-wise, I felt a little short changed. It was forty minutes at the very most. I suppose there was some sort of opening act we were supposed to see, but nobody knew who that was, or had any sort of interest in seeing them.
I came away pretty happy, but with a dread that Death from Above may be a one trick pony. They played two new songs, which sounded, dare I say- unremarkable. I’m completely in love with You're a Woman, I'm a Machine, but the new stuff just lacked oomph.

The Smileys and I managed to exit the club amidst security kicking the shit out of some homeless dude. We were then heavily assaulted by Westy, who had been there all along. All but Dorian seemed enamored with the show. I’m sure he’ll have his own lengthy entry about the bassist going off beat and inferior sound equipment-
But me, being raised on bands that found guitars in their dad’s basement, I thought Death from Above did an all around good job.
If they play again, I’m definitely going to attend. It was nice to be at a show that didn’t end with the police running in and zap-strapping everybody.

March 10th: After work, I attended a metal show.
So it’s legend time: sentences in black refer to instances where I display what a crotchety old man I’ve become, despite the fact I’m neither elderly nor male.
I don’t remember either of the band names, but it’s probably better if I’m not specific, else I get lynched by children in excessively baggy pants.
I arrived at the show, was the only person with an actual drink (that wasn’t beer), and sat at a table with complete strangers. I befriended them quickly, through art and the fact that every last one of them smoked.
In fact, they were in awe of my complete pack of cigarettes. When I looked at them questioningly as they dug around for loose smokes, I suddenly realized where I’d seen this scene before: five years ago, in my life. These kids weren’t even eighteen yet.
This made me laugh. At them. Repeatedly.
Yet they continued to talk to me and show off their terrible emo art, which consisted mainly of hodgepodge graffiti and crying eye drawings. I cringe at their declaration that they want to publish morbid children books (mainly because they could never compete with my talented friend Jan, whose in the same industry).
The first band featured some seedy looking men who threatened to tear up the venue, and played generic metal, complete with ogre voice. They weren’t terribly bad.
Everybody assured me the second band was “awesome” and “kick ass”. This, for the uninitiated seems to actually mean “emo”, and “not very talented”.
The young man singing seemed to have a lot of unsettled issues with his mother, which he illustrated by whining and clutching his chest. He also reached out to the crowd. I think perhaps this was some sort of bonding over shared pain about curfews and the fact that “the man” may have been “bringing them down”. I left when the strobe light started making the youngsters seizure.
So, in the end, I’m old.
And I have to work tomorrow.
And you kids and your damned rock music.

March 12th: I fear the Thing on my Foot (I’m fixing to name it Scourge) has become sentient.
Soon it will have its own LiveJournal, will engage in witty online banter, and may sign up for a Counter Strike guild.
My main concern is that it will be pro-Mac.
But that’s really where my anxiety regarding it ends. At first, I’ll admit, I was alarmed by this foreign organism attached to my sole.
But I’ve grown to be fascinated with it- this thing nobody can quite diagnose.
I’m hoping it gets named after me. I’ve always wanted a malignant fungus monikered in my honor.
Viger’s Foot: n. A pattern of strangely artistic growth caused by insisting to remain barefoot (esp. when dwelling in a basement) and is characterized by a compulsive need to personify infections.
A cure has yet to be discovered.

3.14th: Happy Pi day!
In commemoration, I shall talk about smoking.
Yes, it’s a non-sequitur.
See, after spending that night with the wee punk children, I began thinking: suddenly smoking has become extraordinarily popular among the antinomians.
That is to say, something that was “for old people” and a habit “mom and dad had”, has now become a way to rebel.
Sure, smoking has always been one rights of passage: do you try it? Everybody’s doing it!
But now it’s so much more. It’s now “cool” to hate smoking. It’s the crowd’s judgment that the habit is abnormal and disgusting.
So it’s the underdogs that pick it up, the kids that sing half-baked ideas about the state of government, and how they’re going to headway change.
I just find it surreal the number of kids at that show who smoked. It was a good deal more than half.
Somehow, I think the anti-smoking lobbyists are really missing their mark when it comes to kids and cigarettes.
The tobacco companies are thanking them, one stolen cigarette at a time.

Update: While I was writing this, I can't believe what happened- I was doing laundry- which I started the MINUTE I got home today (around 9pm). It needed to dry, and went a little bit over the laundry curfew (10pm), and she shuts off the dryer. I went to turn it back on, and she confronts me.
I tell her that I work 6 days a week, and I need to do laundry now because a) I have no clean underwear, and b) I have a THING growing on my foot and NEED clean dry socks. But she’s such an asshat and won’t let me.
So I’m like what the fuck- and tell her that I gave the other girls a couple of chances of cooking in the kitchen before telling her.
And she responds with “it’s not eye-for an eye”. Well, great, but there’s a BIG difference between cooking a huge meal at 4am, and finishing drying laundry at 10:30pm.
WHAT THE FUCK.
So she sits with me, as I lay out my soaking laundry around the kitchen for it to dry, and I tell her to stop worrying about other people’s kids. I tell her we’re adults, and she QUESTIONS me. Saying “with this behavior I don’t know”.
Jesus Christ.
I just want dry socks, you fucking moron. Now I have no clothes to wear to bed, and no dry socks, and no UNDERWEAR.
As sexy as that sounds, I’m so pissed off there’s fucking no end.
I wanted to be IN BED by now. But no, I have to sit around hoping my clothes fucking dry. That’s great. That’s fucking _great_.
And not only that, she offers to DO my laundry for me. I tell her that’s creepy, and she wonders why. I have to repeatedly tell her she’s NOT my mother, that she has her OWN children to look after, and she doesn’t do a very good job of that either.
God DAMN I can’t wait to move out.
I can’t stand this.
It’s intolerable.
I’m THIS close to exploding at somebody. I’m so getting kicked out. Soooooo close…

March 16th: Today was a strange mix of terrible and great.
I got up this morning and proceeded to spill powdered black eyeshadow all over and inside my purse, coating everything with soot that resulted in me spending the day with black hands- and sometimes black facial smudges.
In further bad news, I’ve noticed my landlady doing several passive aggressive things toward me. They’re minute, but irritating: she sets the alarm really early so it goes off when I walk in, she leaves the automatic lights off so I have to stumble around in the dark, and whenever there’s a roommate in the basement, she comes and talks with them (or sings with them) loudly.
Luckily the irritating parts of the day ended after my doctor’s appointment.
Dorian and I went to Pizza Hut and goofed around for a good hour, where I came away with math I can’t even begin to understand, a new invention for writing on people over great distances, and a piece of advice we can all take to heart:

::Recalls:: Oooh yah...

March 20th: Ah, the laid back life… As opposed to making a million small boring entries, I’ll just compile my week today.
I worked, I slept, and I’ve made a new schedule for myself. This “going to bed at 1am, getting up at 9am and being late for work” thing isn’t working for me. So instead, I’m going to get up at 8am every day, get to work on time, and leave work earlier.
I also got up at 10am yesterday and today in attempts to not mess up my schedule on the weekends. I had the habit of going to bed around 5am and getting up at 2pm on the weekends, which was accomplishing nothing but screwing up my Mondays.
So yesterday I had a productive day: I got up, wrote a review, went into work (which, unlike most Saturdays, was bustling with Boyballz :p), then joined the Baldwins for dinner.
I ended up leaving early to let Dorian care for poor Baz, who seems to have come down with bronchitis. I empathize. What a shitty, shitty infection. Damn the respiratory system, and all its vulnerability!
I was supposed to look at an apartment today, but I called and cancelled, making up some lie about not being able to get out of my lease. Why? Well, first of all, I’m a total chicken shit, and even though I have quarrels with my current abode, I’m willing to bear with it to avoid the pain of the unfamiliar.
Also, I can’t seem to find a place with a ‘net connection inclusive- that is, I can’t find an apartment to my rigid stipulation:

And here I was lead to believe basement shitholes were easy to find. Apparently, though people are willing to rent the shithole, they’re unwilling to have a fitting occupant.
“1 bedroom basement shithole. Looking for non-smoking, no pet, quiet female occupant who will not complain that there’s no running water. 1200/month”

March 22nd: While baked, I had a great idea for an essay! ... Wait ... It’s not great at all! Screw, this, I’m going to eat corn chips and masturbate.

March 26th: So, the week has been slow. Thursday I played poker, and nearly won. I’ll spare the gory details, but I’m tardcore.
Friday, being the holiday that it is, saw me going into work for a full day (that’s right, 10am-7pm). I also went in today, but during far more lazy hours.
And now, since everybody’s fallen asleep from my uneventful life…
BAM!
Quotes.

Abuse of the "Change Screen Name" Option

Dorian

Why the Advertising Company fired Us:

Dorian

Weight Blinders:

Dorian

March 27th: Managed to get myself up early, drunk by 1pm, and passed out at around 4pm. Thank God (wait, Jesus! It’s his day to shine) for delicious Easter meals provided by the strange, strange family I live with.
Luckily two of my roommates decided not to show up. This left me with Kayla, the newest girl, who isn’t that bad after all. Why have I suddenly turned coat?
Ah, she’s a fellow smoker, and bribed me with a pack of Marlboros.
For those of you who know wtf I’m talking about, you understand why we’re now best friends, and will be married shortly.
Also, I crapped away the rest of the day watching Futurama, yet still managed to stay up until one in the morning.
Augh… So much for my awesome new schedule.

March 29th: SPRING IS HERE! And if it snows again, so help me, I will moon the weather gods PERSONALLY.
Work has been a little here and there, really. I’ve hopped aboard yet another project, but luckily, a fairly low stress one.
Games night, from which you’ll be spared the gory poker details, also went swimmingly. Good crowd, tournament playing- I came in third.
THIRD, people.
I don’t even know what cards are, let alone how to play games with them. This astonishes me, and also makes me gloat.
Hardy har har har. I am a genius.
After going out fourth from last in the final game (around 11pm, god damnit), DK, Ade and I walked home.
Yes, it was that nice outside.
Great evening for a stroll, even though the lake melting makes the entire midtown rank like rotting fish.
Mmm.
Takes me back to my days as a harpooner.
Call me Ishmael, I’m all in.

March 30th: The battle between Dorian and I rages on. He continues to beat me to work lately. No matter how much gusto I have, I just can’t stop smacking that snooze button.
I need one of those new fangled smart clocks, that boots ass out of the way when you try to sleep in.
Yes, technology. Do my bidding, and make me a better, more productive person henceforth!
But regardless of my lax wakening, I managed to meet quota, and spent the evening playing DDR.
Strangely, I still can’t grasp the game. My scores of A and AA are purely coincidental. I play for the gay songs, and the fleeting chance to “bust a move”, as the kids say.
And it’s at this point that I continue my awesome string of not going to bed at a reasonable time. It’s nearly 2am, for fuck’s sake.
When the time change comes, I may as well hand in my cosmic punch card.
Cuz I’m gonna be late to life.

March 31st: WOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo hoooooooooooooo!

Decomposing Love

Scottie

Eye on the Prize:

Dorian

The Blunt Approach:

Dorian

World Wide Wisdom:

Dorian

Wireless Spring Area Network:

Dorian

Insultiment:

Dorian

That Person Coughing in the Movie Theatre… is ME:

Dorian

I am NEPTUNE, and You Know Nothing of My Work:

Dorian

April 1st: I’ve decided to spontaneously go to Mexico! APRIL’S FOOL!
Seriously, today was very stressful. I had to once again deal with my fear, and the repercussions of sharing it with others.
Sometimes, I think it would be better to keep my thoughts to myself, because when you open up to people, it just makes it that much easier for them to take your frustration and pain, and throw it in your face.
I try to keep my issues quiet- to not pester people with neediness and an insatiable need for support.
But lately I've been feeling a lot more fearful, and it’s something I’ve been vocal about.
I've had on-and-off problems with anxiety for years, and it's starting to rear its ugly head again.
The thing is- I can deal with it. My friends, on the other hand, seem to think I'm an idiot.
No matter how I explain it, or what analogies I use, the idea of "crippling fear" just spells "cowardice" to them.
"I can help you, nobody else has done it right."
Wrong. Soon you'll grow tired of dealing with shit you don't understand.
"You're not afraid of ALL new things, why are you afraid of THIS new thing?"
It doesn't work that way.
"You promised you'd get better, why are you backing out of it?"
I promised that when I was rational, and not panicking. If you promised to go get groceries, then noticed a tornado outside, would that be 'backing out'?
To me, it's the same.
Sometimes, Outside is a storm. Outside is peril.
It's frustrating that I can't explain this better, or put into words just how I feel.
Everybody's out to fix, and very few of them understand support.
It's the age old dread. If I don't show any progress, people will start to lose interest in helping me. My friends aren't professional psychologists, what do I expect?
And so I approach this in little steps- Steps I do for myself, and reward myself without caring what other people think.
I’ve been hurt too often by misunderstanding, and judgment.
But dealing with a phobia is a difficult thing to do alone. It’s so easy to give into the irrational fear. It’s too tempting to run. It’s so simple to throw everything away, and live in a bubble.
I just want everything to stop, and stay.
Still.

April 2nd: In regards to yesterday’s entry, I commend one friend in particular for coming to such an enlightened conclusion about my condition- not only that, but he managed to describe why people fail to understand me:

This is exactly it. As those who are close to me know, I have a lot of pride. Probably too much. Though I might talk vaguely about how I feel, it’s always with a sort of “jolly” slant. Like I’m always half-joking.
The thing is, I’m not.
When I get home, I’m not laughing. When I shut the door to my room behind me, I have to face the defeats of EVERY day in silence.
In fact, last night, I was in a miserable state, feeling that I couldn’t ever accomplish anything again. That’s the problem with relapses- even though you’ve dealt with symptoms of phobias before, the fact that they’re back can be harrowing. All that work down the drain. The last few months were so good, and now I know it’s going to get so bad.
I used to have ways of dealing with the frustration, but lately I’ve needed to find a healthier method, and it doesn’t seem to be working.
It feels like giving in to the fear.
But if I’m anything, I’m a fighter. So today, I got up, had a couple of drinks, and went shopping. That’s right, to the crowded, ever-changing mall.
I also bought over 100$ worth of clothing, which is completely out of character for my frugal self.
And finally, I bought a metro pass, which was one of my number one fears (since it would change one of the well-worn routines that I do every day).
So that was all pretty much a “fuck you, brain”. For now, I can do what I like.

Small victories for me, every day life for everybody else. But they're triumphs none the less.

April 3rd: Last night I ended up going to Dorian’s, where he, Deni, Duncan, Suzie and I chilled (and sewed!) for a bit before dark rave.
Suzie was nice enough to drive us there, which was a life saver seeing as I was already drunk and tired from DDR.
Once we were at dark rave, I danced a bit, flounced around a bit, and discovered that all those exotic girls you see on the dance floor are appallingly normal if you talk to them.
Unfortunately the fun bit of the night ended there, as I decided to leave around 1:30 OLD time.
I soon discovered, after waiting 30 minutes for the tram, that the subway was NOT running anymore, and that I had to transfer two more times in order to get home. This totaled over an hour of in-transit, and saw me actually go to bed at 4am (new time).
Crap spackled time changes.
And to make things worse, all that waiting was done in freezing sleet- and me without a proper jacket.
Screw you, weather. And all your fickle flights of fancy.
Today, I’m tired. So very, very tired. I slept in, then napped, then dragged myself into work briefly. The boys were going to see Sin City, but I declined joining them due to the fact I think I might collapse.
Right now.
Zzz.

April 4th: Skipped out on work today. I fully feel a cold coming on. I'm all fatigued and congested, so since we're at a bit of a crunch, I decided to nip this in the butt before I get full blown symptoms. It seems to be working, plus I got Blackaby issue #2 completely finished. Sadly, the remainder of the day was very uneventful.

April 6th: I've been at a strange illness level today and yesterday. I was well enough to stay for games night (though I just chilled and didn't do anything straining), yet I've still been sneezing and coughing like crazy. Energy levels seem fine, though. Weird. Well, here's to cold fuzzy brain syndrome- an online personality test!

Extraversion

Romantic

Stability

Avoidant

Orderliness

Anti-authority

Empathy

Wealth

Interdependence

Dependency

Intellectual

Change averse

Mystical

Cautiousness

Artistic

Individuality

Religious

Sexuality

Hedonism

Peter pan complex

Materialism

Physical security

Narcissism

Food indulgent

Adventurousness

Histrionic

Work ethic

Paranoia

Self absorbed

Vanity

Conflict seeking

Hypersensitivity

Need to dominate

Female cliche

Mmmm... Sociopathic Xenophobe. I love it. I need a shirt that says exactly that. Perhaps with an arrow pointing downward and a picture of a crumpet.
In other news, I went to the computer store in order to prove I'm a complete and utter retard. I'll be back tomorrow, returning my retardation, and giggling like a girl. COMPUTER! HOTSYNC WITH BRAIN.
I also was introduced to my new roommate, who's from Paris. Guys, don't get too excited. ::Nose tap:: This provoked my landlady to force me to speak French to this girl, whose name I've forgotten- Augh. I UNDERSTAND French, people. I just have this horrendous accent that makes me sound like Cletus the slack-jawed Yokel.

April 7th: Today started out relatively nicely. I slept a bit shite last night due to coughing, but I was generally awake for work.
At lunch Dorian and I headed down to the computer store to get the wireless card I actually needed, then had a nice lunch.
I returned to work, stayed until about 8:30pm, then, bought some cough syrup on my way home.
(Music goes: DUN DUN Dunnnnnnnn... That's right.)
After landing in my room, I installed the wireless card, started up some downloads, downed some cough syrup, and went to bed.
I slept for about an hour, before climbing into an uneasy state of awakness. And at precisely 2:32 this morning, the power went out. Why do I know this?
Because I was tripping the fuck out.

Shortly after that I puked up the crazy-assed cough syrup, and many things I don't even remember eating.
I felt a good deal better, and slightly less sure my heart was attempting to escape through my eye to rain supremacy on my right knee.
I guess the moral of the story is, don't buy discount medication.
Ever.

April 8th: With my dying words, I curse TORONTO TRANSIT COMMISION!

April 9th: I’ll never have to write another essay, because this picture of Toronto's silky layer of smog is worth 300 – 500 words.

In conclusion, I can safely state the following;
1. The TTC is run by environment-hating Conservatives.
2. There is absolutely no reason to quit smoking while living here.
3. Toronto smells like an elephant’s butt.

April 12th: Games night was non-stop poker. Until 1:30 in the morning. I don't think I can ever play another game and still love myself. :p
Seriously, I haven't won since my first time playing, yet somehow, I still stick in there, attempting to not look like a total ass.

Poker Crap You Don't Care About:
The first game I played wasn't bad, per se. I just had shitty cards, and shittier luck. The first few hands I had to fold on account of craptastic cards (i.e: Jack/2, 10/3, early on in the game). The one main hand I played was a pair of kings, which I bet heavily on, and got taken out by Weed's full house.
This left me with four chips, and the big blind fast approaching. The next hand I was dealt a pair of two's. Law of averages says I wouldn't get anything better before the blind hit me, so I went all in.
What beat me? A pair of THREES. I could have dealt with being taken down by a descent hand, but jeeze. Close.

The second game I played was a 10$ hand with 12 people. Massive game. Probably the biggest pot ever here. I lasted in there, 4th from last, but had generally crappy cards, and got stuck playing against a lot of the better poker dudes. They say cards are luck, but I'm convinced that there's a fair amount of skill involved. Knowing how to play, when to bluff, and knowing the other players' tells. Honestly, I can't read a single person here.

So, I returned home and got to bed at 2am, completely zonked out of my mind. I ended up having the craziest dreams.
What tends to happen, especially when I smoke weed right before going to sleep (which I do when it's late and I have to get up the next day. This is because, when sober, it takes me up to 2 hours to fall asleep).
At any rate, the most common thing that happens to me when I sleep RIGHT after partying, is I have vivid dreams of the party continuing, and wake up barely able to tell when the reality ended, and when the dream began.

I also had a strange dream- I was in a hotel room, and it seemed like it was a convention of some sort. I'm pretty sure it was a gymnastics competition/con, because I remember the girls I was staying with were doing the splits and stretching.
I didn't know the other people in my room.
I was milling around, noting that the room was dusty and old, and when I looked out the window, I noticed a helicopter about to crash into the building.
My roommates evacuated, but I was obsessed with putting on my socks before leaving. Only, the only thing I could find were little kid's socks that wouldn't fit me.
I looked under the bed at one point, and found an MP3 player left by a previous occupant. I messed around with it a bit, and was thoroughly confused. It had some photos on it, which were blurry. It was like half iPod, half digital camera.
At any rate, I remember clearly thinking to myself “Oh well, I'll learn this later. Doesn't matter if the helicopter crashes, I have an iPod now!”
At this point, two older women came to the door, and handed me my coat, which I had checked at the front desk. They were just doing me a favor, saying I may have forgotten it while evacuating.
Then they left.
And I remained. No, the crash never happened in my dream, but there was always impending doom.

I told my dad the whole rigamarole, including the dreams, and my inability to synthesize reality properly. Here's the conversation that spawned from it:

TGO

So, I may not be nutty, but if I ever start reminiscing about something you have no recollection happening, I probably imagined it. Then my brain synthesized it as reality. And everything gets confusing from there on.

April 14th: PARTAY!!! Today was the Boy Ballz show!
I basically hung around after work, wasting time while waiting for 11 o'clock to roll around. I ended up being the only person in the studio at one point, which involved watching The Apprentice.
I'm not complaining, though. Having no TV at home, it was pretty relaxing.
Eventually a couple of the Smilies returned, and we headed down to the Silver Dollar, where the Boy Ballz rocked all our worlds.
People were just cutting loose and dancing their asses off. It was awesome.
They were followed by Ratsicule, a band consisting of two hot French girls. There's absolutely nothing to complain about when a femband sings “I'm Too Slutty for Your Party”.
And speaking of slutty parties, there certainly was a high sexiness factor to this particular show. Maybe it was the fact ladies got in for free, but I know at least one person who hooked up hardcore at the show.
Sadly, it wasn't me, despite running into two hot gay chix in the bathroom, and getting to see down their pants- now don't get the wrong idea. We were showing off piercings and tattoos.
Well, also comparing underwear, and discussing how difficult it was to find hott lesbians. Yes, guys. Your fantasies of wha happens in the ladies room is EXACTLY what's going on in there.
So after witnessing the bartender chick hook up with another girl, and smoking in a dingy bathroom (like it was 1996 all over again), I went back to the dance floor and rocked it with the Boy Ballz, who were, at this point, trying out their dancing legs.
And rapping stylings.
Much irecreatable hilarity ensued, including all of us being drunk enough to yell at the remaining patrons to come dance with us.
(None of them did.)
At some point during the party, Dorian actually arrived (despite having planned otherwise). But he took off before me.
This left me to hang around until the very end, when the Ballz were packing up their equipment, and the remaining partiers piled in the van and cabs, returning to the studio.
We had a few more beers, chatted, smoked and had a great wind-down.
I called it a night at around 4am, when I managed to flag a cab down and get my drunk ass home.
BOYBALLZ ROCK.
Maybe pictures later if I can coerce digital camera people to send me shots.
... And as an afterthought, having spell-checked this; I make up a lot of words.

April 16th: Augh, it’s only ten o’clock and I’m already tired.
I went to Laurel’s party last night, which was such a blast. Hilarity always seems to ensue with those drama geeks. :p
We made smores over a romantic gas stove, froze out in the cold, had pyrotechnics, and told thrilling inside jokes nobody quite understood.
A spontaneous hallway party broke out, as did a precarious game of darts right in front of the kitchen doorway.
I escaped pretty early (with surprisingly few burns), to catch the subway, and took off with Laurel’s very ahhh “stylish” jacket.
Much sleep ensued.
Today was far less amusing, and involved tedious domestics. So to make this entry slightly entertaining, QUOTES!

The Carrot's Pelt

Dorian

SCOURGE!:

Dorian

Ah, Memories:

Dorian

That Week I Narrated Your Life:

Dorian

Beating Off Casualties:

Dorian

Liqour in the Front, Poker in the Back:

Brad

Dorian

Odd Job Androgyny:

Jaime

April 20th: My plan to have a restful week and weekend failed spectacularly.
Sunday was an impromptu dinner with the rest of the boarders, which wasted most of my day. Monday I returned home early, only to be coerced into another party, this one to celebrate the land lady’s birthday.
I retreated to my room fairly early, because the whole thing was very weird. Her husband kept offering us liquor, and while I was in good spirits over it, the other girls seemed alarmed.
Whatever, he’s a creepy guy. Just punch him in the nut, ladies.
Last night was some huge poker tournament that I didn’t feel like being a part of, and I was generally nauseous, tired, and in ill spirits. I ended up getting into this massive fight with Heath- which kept me up until 12 in the morning.
Sometimes the things you don’t say are the most important; I had dealt with the whole issue that caused the fight. It was pretty much in my past, a closed chapter.
But it was new to Heath, because she wasn’t there when I was in the thick of dealing with it.
There’s a strange juncture that happened when she moved away.
It was definitely one of the key points of my maturation. I was starting to think more about the future, and being an adult. I had far less insecurities to voice, and I guess it seemed like I was being remote.
The thing is, I generally don’t talk about my problems when they first start. When things bother me, at first, I give it time. I’m not really sure what to do with the new situation that’s cropped up. As the problem worsens, I’ll usually tell somebody, because then it’s an actual event that’s taking place.
I’m not sure that even made sense, but it’s pretty much how I look at my life and sharing it with others. It’s difficult to tell people about something, even if you WANT to tell them, when you yourself aren’t even sure what’s going on yet.
At any rate, things have calmed down, and Heath is stuck with me. Yes, YOU. You said it right when you said we’re family.
And you can’t escape family.
…
And I mean that in a non-sinister way.
So today, I actually managed to pull of the restful thing. With my mind at ease, I’ll close off with the conversation that launched a million ships (of porn).

Jaime: You use these to play out your own twisted fantasies don't you?
Me: YES
Me: I DO!
Me: ALL THE TIME
Jaime: Viger, late at night, in a nearly abandoned studio...
Jaime: Huffing on cigarettes hunched over a keyboard
Me: There MIGHT be a modified Betty puppet
Me: out there
Me: ::Shifty eyes::
Jaime: I went through your site looking for OJJ slash pictures, and found none
Jaime: What gives?
Jaime: Someone's been slackin'
Me: No, it's a long sad story
Me: of a domain
Me: art by a few other "unnamed" studio perverts
Me: then we got banned from freeservers
Me: because I was peddling smut.
Jaime: HA!
Me: I know!
Me: Isn't that terrible!
Jaime: That was under your high school photo wasn't it?
Me: I actually called them in person
Me: And said "ART CAN'T BE PORN"
Jaime: "Most Likely To Peddle Smut"
Me: and they argued with me.
Me: I was voted most likely to corrupt the youth of Canada.
Jaime: Well, given the age of the average slash writer, I think we can confirm that prophecy fulfilled
Jaime: They argued with you? What, are they a family orientated host?
Me: No
Me: I used to host a doujinshi site off there
Me: Selling male/male comics
Me: but the comics didn't show anything
Me: and that site was up for over 5 years
Me: But Leo's wang, apparently, causes a site to be shutdown within a month
Me: How on earth ddi they find it?
Jaime: My God, how old were you?
Me: Must have been pretty trafficy
Me: or reported
Me: (For the comics? I dunno. Like 15?)
Jaime: They have a smut division, dedicated to finding and routing out perverts like you
Jaime: No kidding? Wow, industrious little lass
Me: I tried to outwit them, but it wasn't worth y time.
Me: I signed up for a porn-domain after that
Me: But they're SO unreliable
Me: site kept getting deleted
Me: I wasn't banned or anything
Me: they just kept losing it.
Jaime: You have to wonder just how that happens...
Jaime: Damn it! Lubricant in the server again!
Me: Maybe jacking off really DOES kill brain cells.
Jaime: *Shifty eyes*
Me: Ha ha ha.
Jaime: I don't think that's true...
Me: Well, not for the ladies.
Jaime: Men are doomed from the start
Jaime: I remember being quite quick witted
Jaime: And then BAM...puberty.
Jaime: It's downhill from there.
Me: I think maybe pot had something to do with YOUR demise.
Jaime: *Ponders*
Jaime: Hey, now... Hold up
Jaime: Aren't you Captain Cannabis over there?
Me: Yah, but my brain is done white matter synthesis, kthx.
Jaime: Well, in light of my ignorance on the matter, I concede this victory to you.
Me: ::NO PANTS DANCE::
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Jaime: LOL
Jaime: Oh God...
Jaime: Put them back on
Jaime: No one wants to see that
Me: My victory is complete, anyway.
Me: ::G::
Jaime: I'm not sure what that last symbol was meant to represent, but kudos to you anyways
Jaime: My brain and I salute you
Me: That would be a grin
Me: Don't you know the oldskool emote?
Me: *l = laugh
Me: *g = grin
Jaime: You were chatting on stone tablets, weren't you?
Me: We had to keep things shorter back then.
Jaime: No, I emerged into that torrid world when you could just use this *smile*
Me: So much energy.
Me: Now it's all LOLERZ
Me: and OMG U NO IT 1337 D00D!
Jaime: Whenever I talk to someone on here...I think they're having some sort of seizure
Me: Ha ha ha, I agree.
Jaime: And smacking their head against the keyboard in a futile attempt to summon help
Me: ::Spews Coke laughing::
Jaime: And inside, oh, let's say journals and profile pages
Jaime: Where you have the time to think and type out things correctly
Me: Ew, profiles in AOLer
Me: a/s/l?
Me: 14/f/LOL!
Me: 16/m/OMG!
Me: 13/f/BOOBIES!
Jaime: HotGurrl69 14/f/LOL Interests: Hangin out n stuff! LOL!
Me: Ewww. It's terrible.
Me: At any rate, as amusing as this is, I've gotto jet.
Me: Have no doubt, you will be quoted in the illustrious blog.

And little did he know, I meant the ENTIRE conversation. C'mon. It was all gold. But here's what you really wanted to see, Jamington.

April 21st: After work Dorian and I met up with Deni, Lynne, and the kids at the studio. Dorian stayed behind to wait for Deni’s mom to pick up her sister, while Deni, Lynne and I went to look at a potential house.
Later, Dorian joined us with MC and Bazil.
Now, the house itself- it’s sort of beyond words. As an artist, I should draw a picture, but I’m certain my hand would melt right off.
It was tenement housing, which Lynne explained to me was built for Toronto’s factory workers when the city began to develop. They were little houses meant for two families, one on the top floor, one on the bottom.
That just sort of gives you an idea about how OLD this place was. It hadn’t been lived in for a while, either, so everything was covered in dust.
But cleanliness was the least of this house’s worries. It was DISGUSTING. It reeked like rot, even on the upper floors.
There was water damage everywhere. I noticed it first, seeing as I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before, and knew the pattern of stains. Apparently the pipes had burst when the previous owner first moved in, but they’d been replaced. Sure, right. That’s a pretty good fall back.
The house itself was in a great location. I could peer out the window and actually SEE the studio. Unfortunately, it was a blurry view, because the windows were etched and filthy. The upper floors could probably be livable with a good wash and some painting, but the basement was a cesspool.
For those who know me, I can’t smell much. From all the years of smoking and other heinous things I’ve done to my nose, I have very little olfactory prowess. But even I could smell the dank in that basement.
Plus, it had next to no lighting. It was also organized in a fashion that the laundry room involved walking right through where I would be sleeping, and the downstairs kitchen was again, right beside my room.
NO!
NEVER AGAIN! What with the kitchen, and the- the ::gestures wildly at door::
Okay, so there’s some trauma involved. But this house was downright ass. I can’t believe they were trying to rent it.
::Shakes head:: It sort of reminded me of a crack house.
Oh, and did I mention the back yard was boxed in by a garage that wasn’t actually part of the house (and belonged to somebody else)?
NO ESCAPE!
::Arm flailing::
Ranting ends here. I may live in a hole in the wall. But it’s a WELL LIT hole.
I closed off the day having a delicious and humorous (as always) dinner with Lynne. It was great, the day ended well, and I’m going to hit the hay.
The mold makes me sleepy.

April 24th: Now for the hodge-podge entry about a bunch of crap.
Friday I was feeling kind of under the weather. I stayed late at work and witnessed a cash game of poker, which seemed alarming. I think I’ll stick to tournament style.

Something occurred to me- the pictures of diseased brains/hearts/lungs on cigarette packages… Are these people that actually DIED of smoking? Because people can get lung cancer, heart disease, gingivitis, even if they’ve never smoked a day in their life. It all seems really implausible, statistically, that somebody would die of smoking specifically, AND donate their body to science for the stock pictures.
Just a little ditty that ran through my head while I was staring at a decomposing heart on my cigarette package.

I did absolutely nothing this weekend, but sit on my ass and watch movies. WOO.

Today was the oldest kid’s birthday at the boarding house. This involved a seven foot cardboard dog standup being placed in the front yard, with “HAPPY 11th BIRTHDAY” written on it.
Everybody who passed by while I was outside smoking looked at me strangely.

April 25th: … Current mood- stfu bitches.
Augh.
Jesus.
I wish, for two seconds, my fucking roommates could shut up with their YELLING in the kitchen.
Today was just awful. It can’t be described with words. Because if I put it out in sentences I’d sound like a complete idiot. I tra-la-la-la through everything with a stupid grin, and I HATE EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW SHUT UP YOU FUCKING ARUGH.
I need to find a new place.
God damnit, the anxiety. Just breath. Tra-la-la-la.
I’ll be fine.
Brb smoke.

May 10th: And here ends the mystery of where I’ve been. On the 29th, Mike came down for a visit, which began with an alarming ride to Dorian’s- courtesy of my land lady. Yes, she was the only individual with a car that I could coerce to bring me to the airport to pick up my boyfriend.
Throughout the entire journey she wouldn’t stop teasing me, generally in the medium of song with prolific use of the word “honey bun”.
Please to never mention that again.
But it was worth it, as Mike and I landed at Dorian’s for a relaxing evening.
The week followed suit with Dorian and Deni being gracious hosts, and providing some of the best food I’ve eaten in quite some time. In fact, Dorian’s ograten sauce even surpassed the 100$ meal in which Mike and I indulged- but more on that later.
The first thing Mike and I did was go out for sushi- which was lovely. Or rather, it would have been, if Toronto didn’t have assbucket weather. It was bright and sunny, then it hailed, then it was sunny again.
By some bizarre karma, we managed to be outside every time the sun disappeared, and great pellets of doom rained from the sky. After much DDR Mike and I managed to salvage a few moments in the sun (which finally appeared for the latter part of the vacation) before it went down. On Thursday we went to meet Scottie-Pie, who was visiting from Sudbury for the Books show. Mike and I dragged ourselves there, both exhausted- me most of all, though.
Despite much liquor and smokables, I was still zoning out during the concert. Mike wanted to stay, but I dragged him home after a few sets, by and large because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
Progressive lounge music be damned! For the weekend, I took Friday and Monday off so Mike and I could stay at a hotel and relax. After a quick lunch we made our way to the Nortel centre, which is a nice little place down near the lake.
We shopped during the days, ate delicious meals at a night, and lounged in the hot tub extravagantly. On the first night we ordered all the most decadent dishes from room service: French onion soup, filet mingon, calamari, lemon chicken- which totaled to over 100$. Ooo la-la!
Our lavish four days didn’t end there, as we treated ourselves not once- but twice to Spaghetti Factory for dinner.
A day of shopping works up an appetite, let me tell you.
I even badgered Mike into working out with me on the elliptical machine- no, that’s not innuendo.
…
Penis!

In the interest of taking up the entire pool with our shenanigans, Mike and I went to the toy store to buy some projectiles.
I can’t remember how drunk we were for this, so I’ll say: very. This gave me the opportunity to show Mike around the illustrious Eaton’s centre. We ended off the afternoon with more sushi. You can simply never eat enough wasabi paste. It’s a medical fact.
The trip wound to a close with Mike and I returning to Dorian’s. When we arrived, we found nobody was home. Oooh, naughty! Oh no wait, the other thing: Sleepy. And so we prove that you don’t have to deface or prank a person to make sleeping pictures funny, you just have to catch a loud-mouth animal hater, quietly curled up with a cat.

May 13th: Weird. There’s no other word to describe today. It started with being woken up from the one reoccurring dream I still have, which is about my teeth. This dream, however, was specifically odd.
I dreamed that I started growing a second row of teeth, behind my original teeth. It started with just the front two teeth, but by the end of the dream I had an entire additional set of upper teeth.
In my dream, I went to the dentist to try and get these superfluous teeth removed. But the dentist seemed to think fixing my original teeth was more important. He was also distracted, and kept leaving me alone with the hygienist, who wanted to gas me. I kept refusing, saying I couldn’t go under general anesthetic because of my heart.
The two of them didn’t listen, and the dream ended with me never resolving my anomalous tooth issue.

So, from the authority in psychology, I’ve had this interpreted. Apparently, teeth represent our talents, or traits.
My dream seems to be saying that I have emerging traits that concern me, and would rather not have. Somebody is trying to change me, but doesn’t finish the job (the dentist leaving). And of course, like ALL my dreams, it features my anxieties concerning losing control (being put under) and not having absolute authority over myself.

The rest of the day was simply weird, probably in my perception, but not in a way I can describe. Just very surreal. It’s probably just my brain getting back into the work routine, but it was quite a trip to experience.

Then, tonight, I had yet another glass shatter in my hand. Not to say I’m Jean Greying it up, but I’ve had quite a few glass things fall apart when I touch them. It’s not an explosive shattering, and certainly not impressive.
It’s more like the glass just falls apart, like it wasn’t being properly held together, and when I pick it up, it collapses in on itself. Like picking a puzzle up.
But these are with dishes I’ve used a million times over and know are in good shape. Strange, but not impressive.

Now if I were a crazy-toothed rabbit creature that could implode things with a single thought, we’d be in business.

May 15th: I met up with Becky for lunch today. It's been over three years since I've seen her, and she really hasn't changed. Well, she's sharper.
The witticisms just kept coming. I had a blast, really. I don't think I've laughed that hard in ages. What is it about childhood girlfriends that makes me giggle uncontrollably?
Maybe it was the binder full of our notes to each other. The scary thing is, there was ONE page pertaining to class studies, and the rest was all doodles and my caricatures of classmates.
How on earth did we pass English and Writer's craft?
This sort of thing proves that nothing is actually taught in class. I did all my learning once the bell rang and I could be alone with my text books. I used to love them- so categorized, so logical. I actually had a long drawn out plan to steal my Grade 9 Science text.
I never went through with it, but I was so fond of that astronomy section.
Apparently Becky has also kept her yearbooks(I regret not purchasing any now).
Before we graduated, I defaced those yearbooks. I don't remember doing this, but seeing old high school chums with captions written by a fifteen-year-old me sounds pretty damn amusing.
She assures me our next meeting will feature these. I'll have to see if I can borrow them and scan some pictures- introduce all my blog readers to highschool!Veege and her crazy gaggle of friends.
For now, the notes that taught us nothing (other than how to cleverly disguise raucous laughter with coughing).

The green writing on the pictures is present-day me explaining the caricatures. Yes, prolific Jew-jokes follow. But Becky's allowed since she actually is Jewish (I'm still gonna get my ass beat, though).

May 17th: Lynne, Dorian and I went out for a nice fajita dinner tonight.
Gosh I missed having those- what with Ddawg's rampant vegetarianism and crazy adventures, I hadn't had my fill of guacamole in quite some time.
Afterward, seeing as they treated me to food, Dorian and Lynne felt they had the authority to drag me to the drumming circle.
This, as I've mentioned before, simply isn't my scene. Underfed hippies nancing around in Elven cloaks really doesn't do it for me. The drumming itself isn't something I find I can "jive" to.
But Lynne had hope and attempted to teach me how to dance like the kids do. I successfully looked like an ass. A robotic ass- with ungainly movements and absolutely no rhythm.
Apparently, it was great.

May 18th: Ah, anime night. I actually attended after several months of skiving out. I think mainly it was because I got to bed at a reasonable time last night, and had the energy today to pursue some after-work amusement.
Usually I would have played poker until the wee hours, but I've lost the passion. Also, there aren't so many people into it these days.
It's nice out- people want to be outside, not crammed into the back room with a group of sweaty men.
::Eyebrow::

May 19th: Life is like grasping at rice. A few grains stick, but the majority fall through your fingers, leaving you hungry.

May 20th: Summer is making the lake heat up and the reek of fish is everywhere.
Today was a shitty assed day. I lost my fucking metropass and ID. I have no idea how I managed that between the Dufferin bus and the College tram- but I did.
When I went to get on the tram, I started panicking- where was it?? I searched my bag, ended up paying to get on with change, and realized that I’d lost my metropass.
I’m not so bummed about the money wasted, but I am pissed that my time and effort will be wasted on getting a new driver’s license. What a load. Seriously.
I’m going to check TTC lost and found Tuesday, but seeing as Monday is a holiday, I’m screwed until then.
Hooray!
So, needless to say, after work I walked down to Dufferin Grove Park. Walked. Then stood around the campfire for a good three hours.
It was fun- friends, food, and a gaggle of children playing merrily. It certainly made me happy- wait, the other thing: want to flee.
: P
Oh yes, speaking of crazy antics, last night I saw the first episode of American Dad, as well as the new episode of Family Guy. Dorian and I watched it, and while he thought American Dad was ass, I thought it was brilliant.
That abrupt humor we all grew to love in Family Guy is definitely present.
And so ends my half-assed review... Because I’m tired, and I reek of burning aspen.

May 21st: I had a bizarre dream last night. I was with my parents, and I just moved into a new house- which is strange, seeing I never moved anywhere with my parents in real life.
There was a tornado threat, which I wasn’t too concerned about because all my stuff was still packed, and could be easily moved downstairs into safety.
But just as a jumped out of the shower, my mum and I saw the funnels (two of them) heading toward the house.
This resulted in me attempting to get my socks on before taking shelter.
Odd- another sock related dream. I’ve had one before. I wrote about it a few entries back. A plane was about to crash into a hotel I was staying at and before leaving I was attempting to find my socks.
At any rate, in this dream the tornado never hit. Instead I ended up remodeling my room (which was a darkened basement), and checking out my parents room.
It had windows on one side and a skylight, which had automatic blinds that blocked out the sun.
When I opened them, I saw their room overlooked a parking garage with several cars.
The garage was covered with corrugated plastic roofing. You know, the stuff they use on greenhouses? Semi-opaque?
That’s pretty much where the dream ended.
Real life was fairly interesting as well: I went shopping in Kensington, then at Dufferin Mall. I finally found what I was looking for (summer clothes), then stopped back home to shower and drop off my stuff before meeting Dorian and Lynne for drinks.
We went and grabbed some food first at this snazzy Mexican place on Queen. At some point during the meal, I swallowed part of my tongue stud, which initiated an impromptu visit to Nutribe to get a replacement. Much giggling at bad tattoo designs ensued.
Afterward we headed to the park to smoke up, and witnessed some very clever children shooting fireworks at one another.
There were no casualties, but it was entertaining nonetheless.
Then we headed to the Camron House and drank two rounds of their famous “crantinis”, which taste like delicious juice, and got you drunk in under a minute. It was awesome.
Once we were tired of the strange eclectic atmosphere (half Goth, half Country) of the bar, we headed outside and wandered aimlessly. Dorian wanted to go down to the water, but it was far too windy and cold.
Instead, we ended up in this crazy Tim Horton’s, where the employees were bored out of their gourds and wreaking havoc.
We got a free coffee while the employees made noise with the grinder and shouted “high speed internet”.
Lynne, Dorian and I exchanged tales of hilarity from our teenage years, and then headed home.

May 22nd: I did nothing today! I haven't even gotten dressed or brushed my teeth. I win the award for achievement.

May 25th: Apparently, the world isn’t a rotating solely to continue the flow of misery into my life. Today, I reclaimed my METROPASS. Goodbye having to be sedated while entering government offices to renew my driver’s licensee, and HELLO sitting on my ASS instead!
I am queen of mixing juice remnants into the semblance of a drink.
Lately I’ve been listening to Harry Potter audio books. This makes me feel even more sure that the next movie will both blow and be powerfully awesome simultaneously. I simply can’t wait to find out the rating.
PG-13… For self-mutilation, child molestation, self-amputation, strong occult themes, Hagrid’s penis, kidnapping, murder, and graphic violence.
But me, I don’t care what they do with the rest of it. They can make it a nancy romp through lollypop lane, so long as they show Snape’s dark mark.
Oh, and before I forget, I’m placing my bets on who will be the death in the upcoming book:

Personally, I hope it’s Tonks. But Rowling’s not going to kill that sorry excuse for a Mary Sue. GOD I HATE HER SO-
Okay. Calmness.
In other news: Papaya. The silent killer.

May 26th:

May 27th: Anime North, day one.
So, I’ve returned home from the first day of the convention. In the interest of keeping my health, and not repeating the mistakes of last year’s con, I’ll be returning home each night to a) get a good night’s sleep, and b) actually sleep in a bed- not on a chair.
Yes, I have the constitution of an 80 year old man. Partying late into the night just doesn’t jive if I want to remain healthy.
So, my day began at a relaxing 10am. I woke up, met up with Deni, was picked up by Heather, then went to fetch Adam.
We dropped Deni and Adam off at their hotel, and Heath and I proceeded to the convention centre. There we discovered that nothing was open quite yet, and busied ourselves harassing cosplayers for pictures. This continued throughout the day. When Heath and I would tire of looking at art books beyond our budget, or attempting to understand obscure series, we would stalk costumed geeks and ask for pictures. Or rather, I would be bold and converse, while Heath stood pensively in the background.

The selling floor finally opened after a massive queue formed outside. Luckily my patience paid off, and I was able to secure several FF7 doujinshi. You know what that means: scans. Be excited. Also, pay me money, you vultures!
My wallet is lighter and I don’t likes it.
But where I lost money, I gained in “con cards”: business cards geeks exchange. I received several of these throughout the day, particularly from guys.
During our comings-and-goings, Heath and I were alarmed to find we’d attracted the attention of two geeky boys. The first was your average con-goer: frumpy, hyperventilating, and after my blog address.
The second was a younger guy, not at all ugly, dressed as Squall, and dangerously gregarious. Whether he suffered from a buoyant social disability, or was trying E for the first time, has yet to be determined. Not knowing when to shut up, this kid followed us around several times, shouting such catch phrases as “I want to be the most known cosplayer ever!!!”, and “You’re smoking?! That’s AWESOME”.
This continued when we found the "matchmaker" room, where geeks attempted to meet geeks... ::Shudder::

Once we’d ridded ourselves of the more tenacious geeks, Heath and I attended a few show rooms and panels.
The first was a yaoi film room, which seemed to be showing the touching story of a furry boy and his wizened male protector. Alarmed by the spastic plot, and confused by the protagonist’s tail, Heather and I didn’t stay long. We did, however, hypothesize on the deeper meaning of the flick.
We also sat in on the yaoi discussion panel, which turned out to be a bunch of excitable female geeks (very likely virgins) twittering and clapping over innuendo between the guys of anime. Normally, I would have joined in, but the desperation in the air was simply too thick for me to properly giggle.
Instead, I resolved myself to sit back and look politely uncomfortable.
The day began to wind down, and Heather and I lost the will to continue walking.
Thoroughly bitter at the lack of good things to watch, we made a brief foray to meet up with Heath’s friends (for whom we’d been looking all day, and found just as we were leaving).
After exchanging ‘cel phone numbers with two people I’ve never met, I’m assured I’ll get Heather’s calls for weeks to come.
Two coffees and six fresh-baked cookies later, Heather and I were on the wrong road to get home, but eventually made it.
More con-craziness tomorrow including: me in a kimono, Heather’s “shyguy” costume, and more desperate virgins dressed as Inu Yasha!

May 27th: Anime North day two- “The Talent is Fat”
Today was a slightly more relaxed day- Heath and I did very little. There was nothing in particular we wanted to see, and not much to do. We spent the majority of our time skulking around, stalking cosplayers once again. The con itself was a lot busier, which made it difficult to maneuver around.
Heath and I popped in and out of a few things, including “live action yaoi”, which ended up being a samurai movie with gay undertones. Entirely too little bumsex was featured, and Heath and I left unimpressed.
We also witnessed a j-pop competition, which involved caterwauling of epic proportions. Stalker-Squall from yesterday was there as the only contestant who a) sang an English song (the Pokémon theme), and b) got booed off stage.
We also saw him while watching the costume competition/improve.
This exhibit began with a “Whose Line is it Anyway” knockoff done by unabashedly terrible comedians.
Following them were the costume contestants. Strangely, none of the GOOD costumes we’d seen parading around were featured. Instead, we were treated to underage girls in alarmingly skimpy outfits lip-synching and busting rehearsed dance moves to tinny low-quality tunes.
Ow.
But by far, Stalker-Squall was the worst of the costume competitors. Not only did his group have no discernable costumes, but their bit was air-guitaring to terrible American music. Wait- HOW is this anime related?
Oh, that’s right. Let’s remember our performance hierarchy: legitimate theater, stand up, magic, mime. Half way through the day, Heather concocted the awesome plan that she would don a makeshift Shyguy costume. This involved tracking down Andrew, holder of the string, and drawing on a paper plate.
The results were, in a word: fabulous.
Once she had the costume, people were shouting “Shyguy!” and wanting pictures left and right.
Next year, there will be swarms. Swarms of Shyguys. Prepare yourselves.

So, seeing as we shan’t be attending tomorrow, the last day, this year’s Anime North comes to a close for me. As always, leaving the con is very surreal. Suddenly being thrown back into the real world, still garbed in a kimono, is very disconcerting. I went out to get some pizza for Heath and I, and was suddenly quite abashed at the stares. Funny, people at the con weren’t staring- they were too distracted by Seshomaru scarfing down onion rings…
But so is the world of geekdom: overexcited cast-outs of the REAL world get to form their own hierarchy away from those who shunned them.
Still, we WERE the most bitter- And therefore, the most awesome.
Pie plate, sharpie, and string. ‘Nuff said.

May 31st: I didn’t go to work today. I’m so lackluster. It’s like the manic part of my brain just shut down. I feel stupid.