shiz.ca

Like father, like daughter

Sort of.

See EXHIBIT A: Escape artist number one:

See EXHIBIT B: Escape artist number two:

who jumped out of the bathroom window on a rainy night and we did not realize she was missing for about an HOUR, and then when we couldn't find her and couldn't find her, I suddenly realized that I'd left the bathroom window open just enough for her lithe little head.

So I ran out, the crazy cat lady, in my pjs and slippers in the rain, calling her name. And I found her. On the front porch of our home where I promptly accosted her and brought her in.

I tell you, folks, I can not BELIEVE how scared I was. There are coyotes out there. Speeding cars. Cats and dogs. Mountain lions. Homeless people. Rain.

Okay, maybe not the mountain lions. But only maybe. But the coyotes have tried to run off with small children, so cats and dogs are routinely their breakfast. So of course I was woirried about her.

The turd.

I haven't been posting entries because not much has been happening, I'm off work from the Crazy Place all week, and quite frankly internet, I've been having my emotional needs met elsewhere.

Just kidding. Please come back!

The other reason I haven't been writing is because I AM a crazy cat lady and if I did write all I would talk about is how our first cat, Brie, likes to beat up on our second cat, Willow. Sometimes it appears to be in fun, but at other times it seems that Brie is being a bully. Unprovoked, she walks right up to her step-sibling and gives her a once over. Sometimes it's a single swat, whereas other times she appears to be making Willow into a punching bag. Man can those kitty paws ever move fast. But even though it's cute, I sometimes intervene because there have to be SOME limits in this house. I'm assured that it's only the cats' way of defining territory, and I'm sure Brie will be Alpha cat the way she walks around like she owns the place, whipping Willow for seemingly no reason at all.

But tonight, after rescuing the little turd from her outside escape, I let Brie whap away. I'm a good mom like that.

I am also happy to report that I got to go to TARGET yesterday (!), which yes, really is a big thrill because we're in Canada: A Target-Free Zone and the closest Target is in Bellingham, Washington, a couple of hours and a border crossing away. (I thought of you, Zoot! And I was HIGH on Target Love!) And I only spent $30! Of course, for $30 I did end up with two shirts, a cool new bra, two Luna bars, a necklace and a pair of socks because Target is the land where money lasts long. And I had the BEST. EVER. PIZZA. OF. MY. LIFE. at their Pizza Hut/cafeteria place. IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD. I've eaten Pizza Hut plenty of times before, and I like Pizza Hut pizzas, but something about this one particular pizza made it AMAZING. Maybe the heroin.

So that is my blah-blah-blah week but I've been loving it except for the part where I overdid it at the gym and have had head and neck problems these subsequent six days. Damn you, eliptical machines! Who knew you would curse me so? I can turn my head each way so that I can barely see my shoulders. When will it end? And how in heck am I ever going to be able to kick ass at the gym if the thought of a workout machine leaves me sobbing?

On the other hand, the pain has given me the opportunity to use up all the codeine Tylenol-3s left over from my wisdom tooth removal.

On a more serious note, my step-father-in-law had a triple bypass this week. Those of you that pray, will you pray for a quick recovery for him? I appreciate that.

That is all, my dear internet. You stay well now, ya hear?

Photographic Evidence

Of the kitty who chomps into bananas. Here is what we came home to on Saturday:

And here is the mischevious sweetie who did it:

And here is the other kitty, also looking sweet:

All is Merry and Bright

Good husband's birthday, good Christmas Eve, good Christmas. We ate Indian food and watched A Muppet Christmas Carol last night, and opened much giftage this am, ate well, napped, enjoyed the company of friends, called family, consoled family in the hospital, drove in the nasty rain, and enjoyed a splendiferous Christmas dinner with a dear friend. Monday we see my family and celebrate my grandma's 87th birthday.

It isn't perfect, but to coin the words of Garrison Keillor, it is almost just about enough. Family is enough. Health & kindness are enough. A loved one asleep in a nearby chair ... is enough.

I have more, so much more, than enough. Merry-merry, everybody.

Happy Birthday

Darling,

Here we are another year along. You are more a friend to me than ever, and more dear. Baby, you have my heart.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.

Shiz

You gotta love it ...

... when one of your co-workers comes up to you and heartfelt-ly says, "Susan, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, all the best and come back refreshed."

Especially when your name is NOT SUSAN.

Forgot to mention

The Bono wannabe at the BLACK TIE wedding who wore jeans, a wrinkled, untucked shirt, a blazer and black pointy boots. And was he ever workin' it with the slouch. And with his thumb in the waist of his jeans.

Dude, it would have been such a hot look if you weren't at a BLACK TIE WEDDING.

O.K., it was still a hot look. But not suited to the occasion. Nat, someone must've gotten photos of this guy, right? I want to show my faithful readers his attire!

Weird

Our new kitty eats banana. She LOVES it. She can hear you open one from across the house and come running. Her foster mom says she gave her some as treats. She won't eat real cat treats, but she'll eat banana. She also likes avocado and bran flakes. She's been known to chomp into avocados or banana left on the kitchen counter.

Weird kitty.

The way it has to be

The cats are not fighting, but they aren't getting along. Willow isn't eating at all and Brie's temperment has changed. We know from the foster mom that Willow will not get any more friendly with Brie over the next 6 months, so we've decided to undo the stress we've thrown on Brie and make us a one kitty household once and for all. Willow goes back tonight.

I feel happy about our choice. As much as I like Willow we have not yet made a bond. She's sweet but I can live without her for the sake of my baby, Brie, who I love so much.

Brie kept crying last night in the living room. She won't enter the bedroom anymore so I kept going out to her. I want her to have the happy house back. And David & I miss our happy Brie. Maybe Brie would adjust, but we know Willow isn't going to change, not for a long time anyway, and we don't want to put our baby through that. The decision is final. We are a Brie-only house. Brie may get along swimmingly with a far more cat-liking cat, but we're not willing to look any more at this point. We just want our baby back.

Update: We don't want to be impatient, but we're still very concerned. Gonna ask questions before we make a final decision. So. Torn.

Update II: We're giving it 3 weeks. If we don't have the old, happy Brie back by then, Willow goes back. And we're doing some super special time with Brie. Both of them sat on the bed this morning at the same time.

Just Another Man Ain't Monday

For some reason I feel like telling you now that for years and years and years and years and years and years of my life I thought that the lyrics to the Bangles' Manic Monday were "Just another man ain't Monday." Not only was I confused, I also didn't care, I hated the 80's, I never thought about the song except to think, while it played, that it was monumentally stupid, and now all my readership will gasp as they read my 80's blasphemy and there will be the clicking of mouses everywhere as people go back to reading dooce.

So on this Man Ain't Monday, I am so totally going to tell you about my Man Ain't Weekend.

Shiz's Just Another Man Ain't Weekend

On Friday night I came home exhausted. But I had plans with Eileen at 9, so I did what any sane person would do. I napped.

And Eileen and I went to Benny's for coffee while our husbands wandered Broadway and did God-only-knows-what, and then the poor angel souls came to Benny's around 11:30. Eileen and I were able to chew the fat and catch up on all the news we'd missed. It was a great time, but of course I came home tired because that is what I do.

Saturday we slept in and spent the day doing various chores before an evening wedding. I looked for a dress that might be sexier than the one I was borrowing, I made a return, did a bit of shopping, and I stopped at the awesome Beverly's the Spa on 4th to pick up the Jane Iredale eye shadow and the Kiss Me mascara that had not irritated my eyes! Seventy dollars later I had two teeny products, the eye shadow no bigger around than a quarter. Yiikes! But if it worked it was worth it. And the mascara really does, as they promise, form "tubes" around your lashes that you pull off moistened lashes later to remove. It's cool and weird, one of my my favourite combinations.

David & I taxipooled with our friend Kevin to the wedding -- a wedding planner's wedding, at that. It was like a 1950's martini bar, and more class than all the weddings I'd been to combined. To say that the venue was stunning would be like saying the Eiffel Tower is a little nice. The wedding was at a venue called Sugar and Sugar. The black-tie staff greeted us at the door and held the door open for us, took our coats and gifts, and handed us egg nog or cider (all alcoholic, of course) within the first two minutes. The wedding was stunning and I wept after which we were plied with drink from the open bar and amazing food, short & tender speeches, champagne and some dancing, which we did not do long. We were too tired. We came home in a cab with the cool city air blowing in the windows and we felt great.

Sunday was another take-it-easy day. We slept in and did a few chores, and then we decided to go look at another cat, Newton. We went to the shelter that had recommended him, but there was not the right chemistry with him or any of the others, so we didn't bring any of them home, though many were sweet. I prepared dinner for the two of us plus David's cousin James, who is in town from Salt Lake City. I got rave reviews about my dinner, so I will tell you how to wow your friends and family in 4 minutes or less.

Actually, I served a salad first, and the trick with salad is to be original. I took spring mix greens and topped them with avocado, spanish onion, and a few little red potatoes and leeks that I had pre-cooked. Pre-cooking the tough or dry veggies is the key. Pre-cook a bit of broccoli for 2 minutes and then cool it in ice water for a delicious salad topping.

But here is the Reci-Shiz that has gotten me fame, praise, and unparallelled glory:

And, ultimately, it changed my life:

But I will tell you about that later:

JUST ANOTHER MAN AIN'T MONDAY!

Ha! Ha! In-Yo-Face This-Was-So-Easy Now You Must Praise Me Angel Hair Pasta

Fill a stock pot with water. Sprinkle in some salt and place on high to heat.

Chop 4-8 cloves of garlic, depending on your bravery level. Begin to heat the garlic in a saucepan with one third of a cup of extra virgin olive oil (or any olive oil). Yes, you read that right. ONE THIRD OF A CUP. But it's a good fat! Really.

Chop one quarter of a Spanish onion. Add to the garlic-oil mix. If the water is close to boiling, reduce heat. Don't cook anything in it yet.

Dice a tomato and crumble a quarter cup-ish of feta cheese. Coarsely chop 8 fresh basil leaves. Take the saran wrap off a package of freshly cooked shrimp, or as Hank Azaria as Agador Spartacus says in The Birdcage, shreemps.

Bring water to a boil. stir in one package of fresh angel hair pasta. Set a timer and cook for ONLY 60 seconds. Be sure to break up the pasta thoroughly via stirring.

Add tomato, feta, basil & shrimps to the oil mixture. Cook for 30-ish seconds and turn off heat.

Drain the pasta and put it back into the now empty stock pot. Stir in just enough olive oil to coat the pasta very lightly, between one to two tablespoons' worth.

Spoon pasta into bowls and cover with shrimp/oil mix. Top with freshly ground black pepper.

Accept nominations for cook of the year award.

Seriously, this takes 5 minutes and people praise you as though you're Emeril-Zeus, chef-god! Try it sometime. The meal serves two absolutely starving people, three that have a salad beforehand, and four with a salad and plenty of a side veggie like asparagus.

JUST ANOTHER MAN AIN'T MONDAY!

And THEN, as though that were not enough. I made a dessert everyone LOVED. It was also easy, and I'll give you the Reci-Shiz for it now:

YUMMERY Raspberry Thingies

The key to any raspberry recipe is to soak the berries in cold water for an hour. So go do that first. This cleans the berries and gives them a better appearance and flavour.

Take 12 raspberries and beat them to a pulp with a wire wisk. Spread "juice" in circles on 4 dessert plates. Top each with a plain sugar cookie. I used Nice cookies by Peak Freans, but any will do.

Top each cookie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Top ice cream with whole raspberries.

In a microwave, VERY CAREFULLY melt a quality chocolate bar, stopping every ten seconds to stir. Over-nuking will ruin the chocolate. Do NOT use Hershey's because they suck. Cadbury's, or better still, Bernard Callebaut get the thumbs up from the Shiz.

Drizzle melted chocolate over each dessert. Eat immediately.

Again, accept much praise. Give Shiz credit at least once, okay?

We had a GREAT-GREAT-GREAT dinner with James and I did not want the evening to end. But it did and we went to bed.

Except that Shiz had been HIGHLY PRAISED! And this is where it changed my life.

I couldn't sleep. AT ALL. It was 11-ish. Or 12-ish. Maybe it was 12-ish. Could not sleep. And I was all happy from the deep appreciation for my cooking abilities. And from the praise at how GOOD I looked on Saturday at the wedding. And it made me feel so GOOD that I began to feel esteem to do all the things I'd been procrastinating about.

So I got up, inspired, and wrote my contact at a magazine that published me last year and queried more articles. I decided once and for all to apply for re-hire at a coffee shop part time, and I created a temporary e-mail signature for my writing-self in Photoshop CS. And I went to bed at 2:00.

At 3:10 I was STILL awake. Yuck. But I was asleep by 3:30, I think.

On Monday I was tired but happy, and still high from the compliments from one dinner and the other decisions I'd made, I registered for a creative writing course and I called about a few kitty-cats I'd seen on Petfinder.com. One sounded fantastic, and she was beautiful in her photo.

Her name was Apricot. We arranged to see her in her foster home last night.

Then early afternoon, my third day in a row of wearing FABULOUS! CHEMICAL-FREE! AWESOME! MAKE-UP! that did NOT IRRITATE MY EYES! my eyes began to itch.

And itch.

And itch.

I removed my make-up in the bathroom, but the damage was done. I was already having a reaction and I was getting itchier and redder and puffer as time continued. I tried not to think about it. There was a kitty to think about.

I went home all aglee (which is like "aglow" but gidder), opened Christmas Cards from Kristen and Amalah and we had dinner and went to see Apricot.

And we brought her home! She is sweet and playful and lithe, and the two cats are still figuring each other out, but so far so good. All night Apricot, who we've renamed Willow (sorry Mary), explored the house while Brie followed her and explored her.

There was one hiss, later, but we think they're all done with that now.

AND? I woke up with a red, red eye. Eyes, really, but one is far worse. THANK YOU SEVENTY-$#@!-DOLLAR CHEMICAL-FREE MAKE-UP. My eyes are puffy, red, and hurty. Waaaah.

Aside: Everyone should have this Christmas CD. It will be a favourite. I promise.

Also, I discovered that one of the things I was going to get David for his birthday is sold out so now I have to hunt and I only have THREE NIGHTS to do it. I'll have to get on the phone.

That is my weekend. Great times with friends, great wedding, great dinner with James, much praise which CHANGED MY LIFE, and a NEW, AWESOME CAT. I feel sorry for Brie, who is a wee bit stressed out. It's like she's still relaxed while on alert. We're sure to give Brie LOTS of attention and treats. They're home by themselves today and I wonder how they'll be.

Now I'm worrying like a mommy. It's true what they say: You're not really a parent until you have two.

JUST ANOTHER MAN AIN'T MONDAY!

Say What?

Some women report having severe cramps on days they washed their hair.

I don't buy it.

You know what?

Little kitty snores are the BEST.

Conan

Last night while fighting off insomnia with Doritos and television, I saw Téa Leoni on Conan O'Brien and the topic of on-screen make-outs came up. She mentioned some of the sexy stars she's gotten to make out with, an impressive list. And she mentioned Woody Allen and everyone laughed, so she told this story. When she got the part in Hollywood Ending, she called a couple of actresses that has worked with Woody before and both blurted out, "Do you get to kiss him?"

And then she said, "And now I kinda get it." And something about him smelling of flowers.

It was funny at the time. I cannot wait to see Spanglish.

And Lemony Snicket.

And The Life Aquatic.

Broaden Your Horizons

Heard some of this on the way to work. Amazing. Can't WAIT to own it.

Dorkness2

You know that lunch I get to have? It's TODAY!

And I'm on South Beach again. Phase one. Bring on the turkey and the salad.

Don't y'all be knocking no South Beach. It's a very healthy plan.

Christmas Crap

Man, it's starting already. When a co-worker stops you in the hall and says, "I just put candles on your desk"and explains that they're divvying up a gift basket from another business, would you envision a set of 10" gold tapers?

That's okay. My 1st year here my boss gave me a dollar-store ceramic teddy-bear-in-a-santa-suit liquid soap dispenser. I kept it in my desk drawer until a day in January when I was able to wrap it in paper and throw it out while no one was looking.

Yaaaay! Gold candles.

WHY must we be such rabid consumers that we sow such huge amounts of CRAP this time of year? Now this'll go to some landfill or some thrift store or something. Ugh.

Merry Garbagemas.

Dear Diary,

Last night I was feeling a little touchy-feely and clingy. And then when I was in bed I realized why.

I'm sad.

I know this group of girls from college, about ten of them, and I love them all so much. We have this really cool bond and I haven't seen any of them since 2001 even though one of us has died. I didn't even get to see them at the funeral, because I wasn't able to go.

Now it is Christmas, and these friends are a big part of the people I miss from the massive total amount of people I miss that do not live nearby, and one of the sweetest girls ever that I love with my whole heart is getting married this weekend and it's a huge reunion for everyone, for all of the girls and a few guys, and so many people will be SQUEALING and HUGGING and LAUGHING this weekend and I won't be with them or squealing or hugging at all.

I'm already lonely. I have few friends in town. I know I have to get out there and ra ra ra and la dee freaking da and meet people yada yada, but for NOW, let's just say that at this very moment, I feel so very very very very sad and weepy and crying with the tears and the snotting and the inappropriate-for-work sobbing and I feel so very bad and alone and untouched and removed and desperately, desperately sorry that I cannot be with my sweet angel friends right now.

That is all, diary. That is all.

I threw a party.

This weekend I threw my husband a birthday party, which was mostly a surprise, except that we did NOT jump out and yell surprise or do anything that dorky. He thought three friends were coming to visit; instead we went to another friend's and hung out with ten guests, drank wine and martinis, ate LOTS of food, and laughed much. He was happy and blessed, and that made me feel all good inside.

David's birthdate is Christmas Eve. I'll cook him a meal and give him a gift then, too. Because I spoil him. And because you always want people to acknowledge your REAL birthday.

In which I show my TRUE Crazy Cat Lady self.

Brie Update. December 13, 2004.

Brie has been with us for 15 days. She bounded out of her carrier and into our hearts and you may all gag now. But here is a rundown of what she does and what she likes.

Brie likes to sit or sleep on top of the refrigerator. And we let her. She isn't allowed to go on food prep surfaces, and especially not the stove, but atop the fridge she is happy as a clam. Yet still somehow a kitty. A kitty-clam. She even sleeps up there. Yesterday she decided that she wanted to crawl from atop the refrigerator to between the refrigerator and the wall. We're storing a table top back there, so she can stand on it in her wee little kitty-sized gap and make us laugh. Then she pokes her head out from behind the freezer and I must say that she looks cute.

Brie loves to sleep in our IKEA chairs, and if one of us gets up from sitting in one of them, she might just go sit in it immediately. It's a perfect size for our fluffball to curl up comfortably.

Brie has a mystery place at night. I don't know where she goes. But sometimes, during the night when I get up to go to the bathroom, I casually look for her. And I can't find her. She's not on the floor, sofa, chairs, fridge. Not anywhere visible. I suspect she's under the bed, a virtual kitty-cat jungle-gym. Either that or behind the claw-foot tub. She likes it back there. Brie likes to lie on the tile in the bathroom and the entrance. I prefer fluffy beds, but to each his own.

Brie loves to jump and she loves heights. She'll jump up to the top of our almost floor-to-celing shelves and sleep up there. She jumps onto our bookshelves behind the books. She jumps up on the mantle, my desk, and vitrually anywhere else. Sometimes she leaps quite a distance and then skids, which makes me giggle.

Brie is fond of the refrigerator. She must have been fridge-fed at one point. Without really begging, she walks over to us when either one of us is approaching the refrigerator. She'll skim our legs and mew softly, being coy and, of course, cute.

Brie loves her white fur mouse and the crinkly ball we got her to play with. She goes bezerk with them. She's not into the kitty tennis ball, but she loves to play with string. Although three years old, Brie is almost as playful as a kitten, and she's darling when she does it.

Brie is not a lap cat, as such, which I miss but hope she'll grow into. She sleeps at the foot of the bed sometimes, and that's a start.

Thus ends the report of the Crazy Cat Lady, me. Stay tuned for more Crazy Cat Lady stories, and of course, photographs.

How did she do that?

I woke up to dirt on the bathroom floor. I thought someone with dirty shoes must've gone in there, but on inspection, no, it was kitty litter mess. She even got it on the bathroom DOOR. How did you do that, kitty?

Favourites ... now you try ...

I love Christmas! I love the rain and the puddles and the Christmas lights reflecting in the puddles and I love the flood waters and the green of all the grass reminding me of all the green of the season! And the red and green of all the traffic lights reminding me of the red and green of the season! And the cold, wet, rain down my neck reminding me of that slushball my brother hit me with in the 3rd grade and the cold wetness went all down my back and melted in my clothes.

Yaaaay, Christmas!

I was thinking about some of my favourites, so here they are, in no particular order:

Christmas Carol, Religious: O Come O Come, Emmanuel

Christmas Carol, Heathen or Pagan: Baby, it's Cold Outside

Christmas Movie: It's a Wonderful Life

Runner-Up Christmas Movies: When Harry Met Sally, White Christmas, The Family Man

Christmas Memory: The night it snowed up at Jewell and I slept in the spare bed in Laura's room and I was in a cocoon of love. And rest. And safety. And hope.

Also? Those three Christmases spent with Clara, Valda, Chooch & BooBoo in KC.

And? In front of the fire with David on our first Christmas, while the power was out. He made me eggs Benedict for breakfast. And gave me a spa gift certificate. And a reindeer toy that pooped.

New Year's Memory: Watching movies with Naomi

Christmas Meal: All of the ones where Clara & Valda and I cooked all day while listening to loud U2.

Christmas Treat: Chocolate. But not cheap, badass filled chocolates. Yummy, melt-in-yo-mouth chocolate.

Christmas Symbol: Snowmen

Christmas Activity: Decorating sugar cookies! Watching snow fall, which it does, like, once every two years. And Toboganing! (The Canadian equivalent of sledding.)

Christmas Gift: This one. Thanks, D!

This year I miss (in no particular order): Heather & Paul, Randy & Nancy, Clara & Conan, Valda, Chooch & BooBoo, Sheldon & Teri, Mary B., Elektra, Lisnard, Jules Verne, Loud, Amy & Wayne, Schplyn, Kathryn B., Kristen V., Kristin & Chuck, Joni, Jodi J., Meredith WHO'S AT YALE! (just found out), all the other pubes, Judi & Rich, Clara & Otis, Lloyd & Brenda, Marke, PinkStiletto, Phil & Amy, my Grandpa, Joel & Jocelyn, Tammy W., Suzy & Danny, Dave & Anna, Sarah & Chad, Edward & Diana Ross, the rest of the Dave/Anna/Chad/Sarah group, the girls from Jones Hall '98, Lianna & Rod, Corrie & Dawn, Heather (& Maika), Jen (sounds like "Bowls"), and sooooooo many, many, many, many, many more. I miss you so much my heart is breaking.

(sob)

I have to write something here

I'm tired. But I get to have a FUN! FUN! WEEKEND! with much partying and much wine.

(We interrupt this post for a rant: would you all stop giving religious and political lectures in the lobby while I'm working in here? YADA YADA YADA. Oh good, you're gone. Internet ranting WORKS!)

Tonight we are going over to a friend's house and enjoy the company of oh-so-many people and there will be food and drink and much debauching.

Tomorrow night will be a demure little wine & cheese party with three of our best friends in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD and they all get to meet our kitty cat face to face for the very first time. And two of the friends, our witnesses at our wedding, will get to see our new home for the very first time! The wine night is to commemorate David's birthday, which is actually Christmas Eve.

Kitty has been sneezing and so off David took her today to the vet. She'll be o.k., and we have medicine drops to give her, now. She's been sneezing so much, WET sneezes right onto us, by the way. And last night she snored! Cute, itty-bitty snores. Sooooo cute. But pathetic. And cute. And wheezy.

Did I say that I'm tired? Yeah. I'm tired. But tonight and tomorrow will rock, I am sure.

I love Christmas.

And the Winner of this Year's Grammar Guru Award Goes to ...

The guy in computing, for telling us for at least the 2nd year in a row, to "HAVE A SAFE AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!"

Curbing my profanity.

Some very suave talker (ew!) just called me at reception and

A) Right off the bat, asked me HOW I WAS DOING

(fume)

B) Did not INTRODUCE HIMSELF

and

C) Did the typical loser-desperate: "You were on my caller ID/Who called me?" routine.

Why do people DO that? I told him: WE HAVE SIX HUNDRED PEOPLE HERE. But, he continued to say that it would either be about computers or about shared accomodation and did he not hear me? SIX HUNDRED PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE CALLED YOU but no, "do you have any idea who it might be?"

ALL outgoing calls show our main number on caller id. (This is the norm. Do people not know this?) So when people see the number, they call me. And they ask me if I know who called them.

For the last time, people: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Besides which, stop being so DESPERATE. If the person had wanted you to return their call, I have a feeling that he or she may have bothered to leave you a MESSAGE.

Idiot.

So anyhoo, I said, again - and you'll notice a theme here - "No," and then said, "You have called a very big place." (In other words, "Stop wasting my time, IDIOT.") He even said, "Maybe it was yourself?" and I laughed. A bit.

But THEN he wasn't done. THEN he wanted to know what kind of business we were. I told him that we are not a business and that we do not sell anything, that we are A Very Important and Way Out of Your Comprehension Science Place and he finally said, "Oh." And he FINALLY. GAVE. UP. AND. LET. ME. GO.

Idiot.

McSweeney's

I love the tagline at McSweeney's today.

And this post is kinda nice.

Behind the scenes with Shiz' purse

Today we take a behind-the-scenes look at the contents of Shiz' purse, for no apparent reason other than weblog fodder. Deal with it.

This morning my (wee, cheap, Winners) purse contains the following:

Eyeglasses Case

A very boring, hard, burgundy case. For my Very Hip Glasses. Which I am wearing. I need to get a cool case from Target. Or Ann Taylor. Drool.

Pengiun Cafeinated Peppermints

Yum. Three of them have the caffeine of a Coke. But seriously, what is wrong with this guy?

A Plastic Baggie with One Clear and One Red-Tipped Mini Christmas Lightbulb

For ALL those Chistmas lights on my desk. The red-tipped one makes them flash.

P.S. - I hate flashing Christmas lights. Hate.

This Person's Address

So I can send her cool stuff. Like, from here. But again, what is wrong with this person?

My House Key

On a Petcetera membership tag thing with a bar code.

One Extra Strength Tylenol

For that headache. You know, the one I need extra strength drugs for. But only one. For half of an extra strength headache. Or that headache that only affects half of your head.

Two Pieces of Peppermint Gum

By Extra, which I think is Wrigley's. I have breath issues, all right?

My Security Access Card for Work

In my picture, I am wearing a black turtleneck and have brown hair. I look like a cat burglar.

Who would steal cats?

My Wallet/Coin Purse

With some change, three receipts, a Starbuck's coupon, my bank card, my video rental card, and my driver's license in it. Woo-hoo! Am I EVER the life of the party with this baby! But I can take the BUS with my change, ha-ha! Also two ginger Gravol.

Oh, and the coin purse is black and leather and lovely and from Roots. My dear Amalah, why have I NEVER heard you sing the glorious praises of Roots?

My Wicked Target Sunglasses

The lenses are silver-tipped.

An Appointment Reminder Card

I need to see my hairdresser on the 22nd at 5:15 PM.

A US Dollar Money Order Receipt

Man, am I EVER FREAKING BORING. This one is for my American Student Loan. So I could go here. And later here. And leave school after 4 years with NO DEGREE and a LOAD OF DEBT. Gah.

Four More Receipts

Do I hang on to EVERYTHING? But still, it's good to know how much those candy canes and Johnson's baby shampoo cost.

An Old Shopping List and My Kitchen Supplies Wish List

Because I still need no-sugar-added pancake syrup. And I might forget that I want an oven thermometer. Then I can go all chef-crazy in the kitchen.

Seven Packets of Splenda

Because you just never know.

Four packets of Equal

Stop looking at me like that.

The Key to My Parents' Apartment Building, But NOT a Key to the Actual Apartment Itself

Because they moved. FROM ONE APARTMENT ON THE 3RD FLOOR TO ANOTHER APARTMENT ON THE 3RD FLOOR. Because hey, who wouldn't?

$2.65 in Canadian Coins

Including a Toonie. Photo here.

A Wooden Stir Stick

For all kinds of stirring emergencies. Also makes a good emergency splint for injured mice and birds.

My Rectangle Target Necklace

Target is the BEST place to buy cheap, pretty jewelry.

A Revlon (GAK!) Lipstick

Moisturous lipcolor in Plum Wet. It's all right, for Revlon (Motto: Skin is made from Teflon, Right?).

Revlon Lip Gloss

I must've been on a kick. LipGlide Sheer in some kind of pink.

My Fitness World Membership Card

In my picture I look like a fat-faced, short-red-haired Demi Moore with no sense of style whatsoever. And no eyes. And a line through my forehead. And jaundice.

A Business Card for Beverly's The Spa On 4th

For Amanda, who dressed my eyes in Jane Iredale this weekend. And my eyes did NOT! PUFF! UP!

And an eyeshadow is $30. Pah!

The Treatment Cream for My Eczema

I have post-traumatic eczema on my wedding ring finger. From that damn Bay of Fundy.

That is the total contents of my purse. You see? As with any girl, I am prepared for any type of emergency. As long as it involves coffee or returns.

Quirky

When I drink milk, I want it in a glass or ceramic mug only, not a plastic tumbler. Because the milk should make the cup cold. That is the way to drink milk. Not out of a warm glass.

Water out of a plastic cup? Not a problem.

EAST L.A.! KABUL! BEIRUT!

At work, we get so many junk faxes from travel agents that say things like:

FLORIDA! BAHAMAS! MEXICO! ONLY $299!

Which is riduculous. Everyone knows you can't buy Florida, the Bahamas or Mexico that cheaply.

But I hear Detroit is only $199.

Brilliance

At reception, answering an internal call:

Shiz: Hello, reception.

Man: Is Paul Belini there?

Shiz: This is reception.

Man: Is Paul Belini there?

Shiz: This is reception.

Man: Oh, nevermind. I was forwarded to reception.

Thank you for that, Captain Obvious.

Sleep is like a red, red, wine

Um, it's 10:40 and I'm TIRED. But a I cannot go to bed. Not yet.

D & I had friends over for wine and cheese tonight and even though I had only one glass (that's "half" a glass to you, Zoot) I still feel sleepy. Plus it's about four hours past my bedtime. Yeah. My husband, who is still pooped from his much-effort weekend was out before he got under the covers, about 60 seconds after our friends had left. I cannot go to bed yet because I have not crossed tthe threshold of "actually really going to totally fall asleep now", without which I will stay awake for a mini eternity. And even though it's mini, it's still an eternity.

I injured myself on bread tonight, as I often do. I eat bread that is toasted to rock hardness and it digs into my tender skin right behind my teeth, and now my mouth is sore. And to prove what a whimp I am, I actually took Tylenol for it. I took TYLENOL (extra strength) because I HURT MY GUMS ON A PIECE OF BREAD. I am helpless.

Our kitty, who has more hair between her toes than our dentist has in his ears, proved herself a likeable, easygoing, and sociable cat with our friends. No wonder the volunteers at the shelter loved Brie so much; she is a very easy animal to own.

So this post is random, written late at night AND in a state of (possibly fatal) injury, plotless, pointless, rambling, and I am just beginning to nod off here myself, so I bet in the morning I will hate it.

Except I won't. I like it when I'm quirky. You know, sensibly quirky. As opposed to axe-weildingly quirky.

My ears are beginning to feel sore as is my throat. I think I need that sleep now more than ever. So here I go, off to sleep, or rather to bed and MAYBE to sleep. And maybe to have a kitty curl up on my quirky-selfed feet.

Is this post shamlessly pointless or what?

There needs to be a better word for "crazy." And for "moron."

Cat man stuck up tree

An Italian man who believes he's a cat had to be rescued by firemen when he got stuck up a tree.

Shoppers spotted the man at the top of the tree mewing for help and called rescue services after he was still there more than an hour later.

Attempts by local kids to coax him down with a saucer of milk failed, and as a result the 46-year-old cat-man had to be carried down a ladder by firemen.

He was taken to hospital in Milan where he is undergoing psychiatric tests.

It's disturbing in a funny sort of way. Yet disturbing. Yet funny. Yet disturbing. And sad.

Ambulanceman tried to pick up prostitute

Police in Canada impounded an ambulance after arresting the driver for trying to pick up a prostitute.

Saskatoon police used the province's anti-prostitution law to seize the brand new ambulance.

An Alberta ambulance company will have to pay towing and impound fees to get it back.

The 58-year-old ambulanceman was arrested and charged with soliciting, reports CBC Saskatchewan.

Under Saskatchewan's anti-prostitution legislation, police are allowed to seize the vehicles of people who are charged with prostitution offences.

That is ... monumentally daft.

Hi! I don't have a clue!

At least, I didn't.

Did I ever tell you about the time I spent Christmas Day with a heroin addict? NO? Whyever didn't I DO that?

I tell you, Christmas is the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, yada, yada, yada.

My last year in high school I had a bad Christmas. Sure I had depression, which I didn't have treated for another NINE YEARS. I decided then and there that I would NOT spend the following Christmas with my family. Instead I spent it with the CRAZIES, including a heroin addict. YAY ME!

Only I didn't know it.

I knew a girl in Kansas City named Lisa, and she came from one of the most messed up families, like, ever. Her mom went through boyfriends at an alarming rate, and they were all pretty much bad people. Her sisters had illegitimate children, one by two different dads, and one of her niece or nephews' fathers was in prison. And when she invited me to spend the holidays with her somewhere to the right of Chicago, I said yes.

We stayed with wonderful people. Her family, though, was crazy. After having lunch with one of her sisters, Lisa asked me, "Did you notice she was high?" No, sorry, I was CLUELESS.

We spent Christmas day in a poor, bad neighborhood, in a small house one of her sisters rented. It was filthy. The sisters and nieces and nephews and her mom and mom's current boyfriend came over. He looked like Billy Crudup in Almost Famous but with more hair, which was darker and nearly covered his little eye slits. He didn't speak much. I don't know if he spoke at all. He was extremely icky.

And at one point he excused himself to use the bathroom. Lisa's mom came in and asked the sister whose house it was if she had any witch hazel, which is apparently code for MY BOYFRIEND IS SHOOTING HEROIN RIGHT NOW.

Lisa asked me later if I knew what that had meant. I hadn't a clue. I was VERY creeped out by him and the neighborhood and the house and tried to have a good day, but I was THRILLED when Lisa told her sister that we had decided to go back to our little suburban friends in the clean house instead of sleeping on the floor that night in sleeping bags.

I don't doubt Lisa. I think she was right about that man. Her mom has a history of dating that sort, and worse. I just ... shudder. But at least I got to spend Christmas away from my family, which was a nice change. The non-Lisa's family times were great. There was lots of snow and there were great people and times with Lisa. And we took a wrong turn and got lost in Chicago AM rush hour on the way back. Can life get any better? I submit that it cannot.

Mr. Shiz's Dad:

On phone:

Mr. Shiz's Dad: So, what are you up to?

Shiz: I'm at work and I'm cutting velcro.

Mr. Shiz's Dad: Velcro. That's like that really thick paper right? It's some kind of special paper?

Shiz: No dad, velcro. The stuff NASA invented to stick things together? That fabric tape stuff?

Dad: Oh yeah, velcro.

I still don't think he got it. Maybe he was thinking vellum.

Little of this and that

So, yes, everybody, I did go a little, um, wiggy, last week. I have a sweet husband who forgave me for being unkind at that time. Was feeling crazy. Stress - which I handle badly to begin with - can easily make me feel crazy. There were some tears, but all is well again with the world.

At the time it feels awful. It feels like one of those huge marathons where there are 50,000 people running, and they're all coming out of the starting gate, but instead of being runners they are thoughts. And they're running towards me and one of them trips and they all fall down on top of me and it hurts and I can't breathe and I'm trying to swim in this sea of heavy, cumbersome thoughts and soon it's a riot and my face is all swollen from being punched and I feel hazy and try to shake my head to make it go away but it doesn't so I cry. And I drown a little because they have a choke-hold on me. After a while most of them leave and I feel run over and usually go to bed.

But it ended and I was O.K. And I did sleep. And I am O.K. And depression sucks. Ah, well.

Brie is loving it at our home. I thought of what it was like for her in the shelter and at Petcetera last night and I got emotional. We like her here, in our very own home. She's really becoming part of the family. Whee!

Productive morning. It feels good. But then, I could be at Starbucks drinking a tasty beverage right now. Hmmm.

My husband comes home from his trip to Prince George today. He had a great time, and that makes me glad.

I was able to redecorate, putting the green fake fir tree garland out of cat-chewing reach. No tinsel tummy for our precious kitty cat!

The Canada Food Guide recommends a minimum two daily servings of garland.

1. Shiz decorates house. House so pretty!

2. David says "Careful; tinsel-tummy BAD."

3. Brie chows down on garland. Loves to eat green plastic fake fir tree boughs. Mmm-mm, yummy!

4. Shiz takes down garland. Puts away.

5. Cat sits in window, oblivious of Shiz' hard work and garland-removal sorrow.

Yaaaay ... Weekend?

Okay, what is this? This thing, this "weekend" thing? I don't think I've had one of these in a while. What have I been doing with myself? Craziness.

What is this, an alarm clock? Um, I don't think so. Hello, 9 am wake-up! Hello pretty kitty-cat, sleeping beside me where my husband would normally sleep if he weren't in Prince George at a birthday party for Jesus. Well kitty, at least you don't hurt me when you roll on top of me in your sleep.

What is this? Pajamas? I can wear you ALL DAY! Woo-hoo! Okay but I won't. I'm going to buy Christmas decorations and make my house all pretty! And then my cat will chomp down on the green fake garland. Chomp, chomp!

And I will buy her cat toys, because she only has mices and no balls to play with, and a cat needs to play with toy balls. And I will watch television and put up garland with lights on it and put cute fakey-red berries on it and hope the kitty doesn't eat any of it and get sick. Or electrocute herself like the cat in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

Later: fire, kitty, cute house, cat toys. All is right with the world.

This weekend thing isn't bad. I may have to do this more often.

Christmas Deal!

Hey Internetland!

I asked my hubby if I could offer a CHRISTMAS DEAL to my readers on his Awesome, Family-Oriented, Fun DVD/Video Cassette and he said YES!

The Rubber Chicken Guy DVD/Video Cassette contains an entire live stage show of the Rubber Chicken Guy, who juggles machetes, has a pet racoon, and gets out of a straight jacket live onstage all while being very funny and appropriate for all ages.

The DVDs and Video Cassettes range from $20 Canadian to $30 US on the website, depending on shipping destination, format, and payment type, but you lucky readers may get a sweet and simple deal:

DVD or VHS: $20 for the first copy (US$ if outside of Canada; CDN$ within Canada) for the 1st item

and

$15 (US/Can) for each additional DVD or VHS tape

All shipping included.

If you want Rubber Chicken Guy DVDs or Video Cassettes according to this deal, please e-mail me a request and I will tell you how to get the deal. You may pay via paypal or money order.

Offer Valid until December 31st.

Thanks, internet. I see David perform a lot, and one of the BEST things is watching girls and boys line up ENTHUSIASTICALLY after the show to get his autograph. He? Is cool. They'll like it.

Only don't get them this INSTEAD of the Xbox.

World Traveler

Guess where my husband gets to go this weekend?

Party, party! He gets ALL the good gigs.

For those of you wanting to know where the heck it is on a map, click here.

I didn't tell you

The finger that never healed did have eczema, and I put medicated gel on it. And then I thought it had healed, so 3 weeks after the medication of the finger began I put my wedding ring back on.

A few days later and the eczema is back.

I think I need a solid platinum wedding ring.

For the record, I injured myself on OCTOBER 6. It is now DECEMBER 3. That is like, a lot of days to have a not-healed itty bitty scrape.

DAMN YOU, BAY OF FUNDY!!!!!

Nighttime

Her: It hurts to be crazy.

Him: You're not crazy.

Her: (weeps).

Dork! Dork! Dork!

Last year when the Director's Christmas Lunch came about at the Sage Bistro, I didn't particularly want to go, but told David that so many other people had been invited (and not me) that I felt kind of left out. I just thought it would be *nice* to be included.

I was just invited to this year's Director's Christmas Lunch.

I feel dorkily happy. Included. Ahhh.

I've been here two and a half years, and I'm only NOW starting to feel that I have work-friends. People that I actually have conversations with. Only, like, since the summer. Have I mentioned that I'm freakishly shy?

Those who KNOW me can stop laughing now. I am VERY good at faking that I am not shy, but I am very, very shy. I even put off phone calls to friends that I've known for, like, YEARS. PAINFULLY SHY.

So shy + working by one's self has equalled a lonely-at-work Shiz. I used to remark that no one would talk to me before ten-thirty. Unless they wanted something. That happens less often now.

There is light at the end of the shaft.

Suitcase stolen with girl, 3, inside

A Russian couple who tried to avoid buying a train ticket for their daughter by putting her in a suitcase were caught out when the case was stolen.

The parents of the young girl from Vitebsk admitted they had not been paying attention to the case when they stopped off for a "few drinks" after arriving at a Moscow train station, reported Pravda.

Police later found the girl, aged three, wandering the streets lost.

The crooks had taken her out of the case and left her behind - but kept the case.

Is there a child welfare agency to look into this? Those parents are unfit.

A Break in the Cup

This is from a song called "Break in the Cup," by David Wilcox. He's very good, and the song is excellent. I thought of it this morning:

I try so hard to please you
To be the love that fills you up
I try to pour on sweet affection,
But I think you've got a broken cup.

Because you can't believe I love you
I try to tell you that there is no doubt,
But as soon as I fill you with all I've got
That little break will let it run right out.

I cannot make you happy.
I'm learning love and money never do
But I can pour myself out 'til I'm empty
Trying to be just who you'd want me to.

But I cannot make you happy
Even though our love is true
For there's a break in the cup that holds love
Inside of you.

Now I begin to understand you
As you explain this fear you feel.
It's when you see me fall into that sorrow
it makes you doubt the love is real.

'Cause the lonely wind still blows through me
I turn away so I can't see
But now how could I still be so empty
With all the love that you pour on me.

I guess you cannot make me happy
That's a money back guarantee.
But you can pour yourself out 'til you're empty
Trying to be just who I'd want you to be.

You cannot make me happy
It's just the law of gravity
And that break in the cup that holds love,
Inside of me.

So if you're tempted to rescue me
Drowning in this quicksand up to my neck;
Before you grab my hand to save me
Why don't you ask me if I'm finished yet?

Because you cannot make me happy
Not when I'm empty inside of me
But you can pull yourself right in here with me
My misery'd love to have your company.

We cannot trade empty for empty
We must go to the waterfall
For there's a break in the cup that holds love,
Inside us all.

A break from the norm here at Journalicious: Song Lyrics. But if you find the song on iTunes or Limewire, it's quite yummy.

By the way, would you count "maxes" in Scrabble as a Scrabble-acceptable word?

The Lonelyweds

I fell asleep in a RECORD under 40 minutes last night, I think. And I did not get very moist during the night, if you know what I mean. The kitty hollered at me (as David was sleeping on his hearing ear) at 2:15 and I debated -- give in and give her food so she's quiet, or NOT let her learn she can wake us at 2 am to feed her? In the end I gave her a small handful; I was tired. What do you think? I think we should feed her closer to bedtime.

Incidentally, Brie loves the fridge. Every time I go near the fridge or open the fridge, she strolls around nonchalantly, but she is ALWAYS there. She must have been fridge-fed at one time in her life, and we do give her wee bits of meat when we're eating something. That kitty doesn't know how good she has it.

I'm going to be vulnerable here and say that I've been feeling lonely. Some people think that marrieds don't ever or shouldn't ever feel lonely, but that is not true. My husband and I feel pretty much the same on this. We've been in hyper work mode for weeks, and our love, attention & affection cups are not getting replenished -- not by friends, by a rich spiritual life, or with each other. We both miss the old apartment, not so much that we hate it here, or REALLY regret moving, but enough to get a little emotional about it. It's a grieving process. The last time I moved I didn't miss my old place AT ALL. This time I miss the old place A LOT.

So anyone with advice on how to kick-start our friendship-&-love-o-meter, how to create fun-filled memories in our new home, and advice about kitty night whines, I am all ears.

Swedish for ROCK ON!

I get to go shopping at IKEA today. For WORK. During WORK HOURS. Using the WORK CREDIT CARD.

MMMMWAHAHAHAHA!

What fun, what glee!

Daaaaaaaaance! Daaaaaaaaance! Daaaaaaaaance to the muuuusic!

Congratulations, Amy, Lauren & Martha!

Look what Amy, Lauren, and Martha have DONE.

CONGRATULATIONS, GIRLS!

May your fame and fortune spill our way.