This Is Your Captain Speaking

Picturesque mountains surround the calm, crystal clear blue lake. Water trickles from high in the porous rocks. In the distance a seagull floats gently on a gust of wind. Welcome to the Shuswaps, located in the heart of beautiful British Columbia. Please step on board, take a seat and relax.

On the menu for this evening is a steady diet of Vodka, mixed with water and a touch of lime. Be sure you've dressed in your 80s finery and have those ponytails teased and ready.

Tonight we go back to the glory days of music. The neon colors and big hair; the leggings, stir-ups and leg-warmers of yester-year. Let me just park this rig over here on this sandy beach, next to the other houseboat full of people ready to party.

Tomorrow we'll all wake up hungover, but not to fear - I'll have caesars at the ready for all 14 of you. Whats that you say? Why yes, we will be floating around the lake all day today, relaxing in our hot tub with the music blaring and radio-ing other boats to make sure there are plenty of hot men in stock.

Not to worry, Saturday is playboy bunny night, so make sure you wear your hottest little bikini (but if it's hotter then mine I'll be pissed). The party at Nielson beach tonight will consist of, oh maybe 100 other boatloads of people, disco on the beach, a live band, a foam party, hot tubs, bikinis, fireworks, and Vodka...let's not forget the Vodka.

Sunday perhaps we'll take it easy in the hot tub again. The men with the parasailing boat should be swinging by any time now for those of you who would like to go for a little ride. If parasailing isn't your thing, there are seadoos and speedboats a plenty. Water-skiing anyone?

Don't forget that today is Sexy Sailors and Pirates themed so get those navy and white bikini and stilettos out. Yes, it's perfectly acceptable to be wearing stilettos on a rocking boat and the sandy beach. Silly question! Can I make you another beverage?

Welcome to your July long weekend...


Dr. Boobie-Feeler

My heart races. No, not right at this moment but at times. Not like wow that guy is hot heart-racing or I can't believe I did that many lunges racing but more like a really fast beating that occurs randomly and at the weirdest times. Not that sitting in a parking lot waiting for my friend to buy her stupid eyelash glue (when I have perfectly good stuff at my house a BLOCK away) isn't a heart-race inducing moment or anything. Hypothetically speaking of course.

Anyway, this has happened for a long time; ever since I was about 12. I went to my (white, male, elderly) doctor about it on several occasions. The first prognosis was that I was expending my energy too much. Dude I'm 12, I'm going to run around and scream like a banshee or whatever it is that 12 year olds do.

I saw him about it again when I was 16. He had me take off my shirt and do jumping jacks in his office to see if it was brought on by exercise. Ya, because jumping up and down in a BRA for two minutes is going to prove anything. The remedy to my heart problem this time? Swallow ice. (I know, right? Can I please see your credentials. On second thought I don't even want to know.)

Meanwhile my younger sister had a throat infection and he made her take her pants off. Presumably to "feel her glands". Now I'm no doctor but I'm pretty sure that when you have a throat infection you feel the glands in your throat! Call me old-fashioned.

When my sister and I mentioned this dispairingly to our father, he went to my mother (a nurse)and said: "I really don't think this guy should be practicing medicine. At least not on my children". To which my mother replied "I was IN the room with them". Okay, that's true but still; he was creepy.

Thankfully Dr. Boobie-Feeler retired, and my doctor is now female. Oh and it turns out that I have mild asthma. Something my old doctor managed to miss despite the fact that I live in a city known for being prone to asthmatics, despite the fact that I complained of my lungs hurting, despite the fact that my heart races (it's just working extra hard to get blood to the lungs - thanks for that buddy) and despite the fact that my older sister has asthma. Where exactly did this guy go to school? Remind me to never go there.

Now where the hell did I put my bloody cigarettes?


Hell In A Handbasket

Sometimes I start to think about "Reasons Why I'm Going to Hell". After the first ten or twenty I just try to stop thinking about it, while rocking back and forth and slowly chanting : "I'm a good person, I'm a good person".

Here are my latest reasons:

1. Sometimes I pretend to be pregnant (by holding a hand protectively over my stomach and walking leaned back a bit with a discernable waddle) on the bus or train. My 4" heels are pissing me off and I just want a seat.

2. I always hope that no one else makes it to the elevator in time before the door shuts. This could stem from my hatred of loud-breathers (especially when in close quarters) or from the fact that I don't want to stop on every floor on the way up to my own.

3. I give people makeovers in my head. I imagine different hair colors, what kind of makeup I would put on them, the clothes that I would dress them in. This is fully, totally a narcissistic I'm-better-than-you attitude and I'm fully aware of that. I still do it.

4. I blog at work. I act like I'm sooo busy half the time and that my job is stressing me out when really it's only certain people that stress me out. My job can be stressful for sure but mainly it's the unrealistic expectations that are put on me, not the job itself.

5. I date like a guy.

I've lived with two boyfriends, (one for two years even!) and was the one to break up with both. In fact I think I've broken up with pretty much all of my boyfriends. There is one guy I can think of where I truly felt like I was acting like a girl sometimes and that's pseudo-bf - only in the last few months and only because he was the only guy I can think of who didn't want to seriously date/move in together/whatever.

With Pseudo-bf I always had the thrill of the chase. I guess that gets old though. One of these days I may actually want to settle and guess what? Karma is a bitch.

6. I've borrowed items from friends and 'forgotten' to return them. They will eventually get them back, it's just that that black dress is so perfect for that party next weekend. Those cargo's? Who knew they'd make my ass look so good?

7. I have, on occasion, tried to blame a minor slipup on someone entirely blameless. "I'm SURE I gave that report to you to file. No? Hm, that's weird. I could have sworn I did." Then I get back to my office and find said report on the bottom of one of my great heaping piles.

8. I may or may not have accidentally set a golf course on fire one time.

9. I return my really late books to the library by sneaking them in and putting them back on the shelf. I then go to the front and whine that I know I have returned that book and could they please check their system again. (ed note: This also works for late movies).

And the number one reason I'm going to hell:

10. I don't believe in hell.

However, if I were to go there, it would be a really cold place where no one wore high heels and we were forced to listen to Al Gore talk about how great he is, watch him shine his Nobel Prize while he is spending his millions of dollars heating each of his homes and driving around all his SUVs to get to his private jets so he can fly off and talk about how global warming is bad. We'd also all be forced to eat things like pigs feet, calf's liver, tripe and chicken claws. Oh, and water chestnuts. I hate water chestnuts.


I Had A Dream...

Not that kind of dream, as much as I want to change the world I'm not quite at that highly intellectual level of thinking where I actually have a plan to do so, but I digress.

No, the dream I had was one in which I had a child. Not just had a child but was pregnant with said child, gave birth and then had a baby. Who then grew into a small walking non-talking entity. She was super cute but seriously WTF?!

I read somewhere that if you dream you're pregnant your body is trying to tell you something (like, um, that you're PREGNANT). Now I'm normally fairly good with my birth control; Nuvaring - love it! Seriously ladies this is the birth control of the future. I've tried the Pill (ugh, who can remember that shit? I can't remember to take my diet pills with every meal for a week to drop 5 pounds for houseboating - how the hell can I remember a pill every. Single. Day. No thanks). I've tried the Depo shot and if I had a horrible enemy girl that I hated I might inject her with it in her sleep if she was extra super bitchy or something but other then that I wouldn't give that thing to anyone. I gained 35 pounds in a month (thank gawd I've lost THAT), I had super PMS (all the time) and mood swings like you wouldn't believe. Um, ya no wonder it's 98 percent accurate. Who the hell wants to sleep with a fat bitchy girl? So I would say Nuvaring is the way to go.

ANYWAY, this month I was LESS then careful. As in I didn't put it in. At. All. Whoops. Anyway O/N and I had a drunken night (broken shower? Check. Broken bed? Check. Birth control? uhh...not so much) but I wasn't really worried about it because I think I may be infertile anyway. Until I had a DREAM about being fucking pregnant.

Anyway I woke up in a bit of a panic and telling myself that I was definitely pregnant because I feel fat and bloaty, I've been eating like crap all weekend and had cravings for weird things, oh gawd and when was my period due...??


Oh. Right. I guess that would explain all the bad food and fatness. Lets just say I've never been so happy to be sportin and if you read Mean Girls Guide to Glory you will get that reference.

I guess that's what my body was telling me with the pregnancy dream.

My apologies to the boys who read this. Some things you just have to get off your chest.



Ahh the weekend...A time of rest and relaxation. That was my plan anyway - I'm going houseboating next weekend and wanted to get myself in top form for those shenanigans (if any of y'all have ever been you know what I'm talking about. It's ridiculous).

Instead my weekend is turning out to be the busiest fucking weekend ever. It's a pretty good friends birthday tonight so I really should party with her. Also, a friend from High School (S)'s birthday is tonight. Normally I wouldn't worry too much if I had other plans but here's the catch: a different, very good friend of mine (Boobie McGee) was (randomly - small world) dating S's friend. They broke up, but S still really wants Boobie to come. Her ex-bf will be there so Boobie wants my support. Still following?

Saturday I have a BBQ to go to at noon, a BBQ on the exact opposite end of the city at 4, and a going away party/BBQ on the other side of the city at 8. Not sure how I'm going to work that out considering that I don't own a vehicle. At least Sunday we're going rafting down the river, which equates to:
water + sun + men + booze & cigarettes = heaven

My Weekend by the Numbers:

1: new outfit for S's birthday
3: BBQs I will attempt to attend
4: hamburgers I will collectively consume at said BBQs
2: hours I will spend deciding what to wear
40: dollars I'll spend on Mac makeup
90: minutes I'll spend getting my hair done
5: songs I will sing drunkenly at at least one BBQ
4: embarrassing calls/texts I will make to at least one guy
6: girls we will try to fit on one giant raft floating down the river
Too many: units of alcohol I will consume

Here's to the weekend...


Hi, It's Me! Every Girl Ever! (My Version)

Hi there! Thanks for coming to pick me up! I know you told me 7:30 but I still have to put some more eyeliner on. Why don't you have a seat on my lovely couch - just knock a few of those cushions off, there ya go! Watch out for the candles though! Isn't my home lovely? I opened an Ikea catalogue and just picked a million things. Gosh Ikea makes life easy!

Excuse me while I go freshen up. Don't worry my roommate is around here somewhere, she'll make awkward small talk with you to prepare you for the evening, while making judgements about you in her head - which her and I will discuss at length when I get home!

Sorry that took so long, I have no idea what I do in the bathroom for half an hour! Gosh, I look pretty! I see you met Snookie and Sugar-Pie, my kitties! That's great that you're pretending to like them and pet them when really you are severly allergic and will probably have to take several anti-histamines later. Well, let's head out, shall we?

What a gentleman you are! Thanks for getting the car door for me, I love men who believe in gallantry. Well except when it's sexist, I get to decide when it's ok and when it's sexist! Fun, no? Don't worry I won't reach across and get the lock for you. I know it's raining out and all but I'm too busy wondering why you're taking so long and making me wait while you fumble with the lock!

What a cozy resturant you've chosen! I never choose, I always tell you I don't care where we go and then if it's somewhere I don't like you get to hear me complain about it endlessly! This is fun because it takes the pressure off me and lets me judge you yet again!

I know you told me we were going for dinner and all but I'm actually not that hungry, weird no? I guess I'll just order a salad and the most expensive martini I can find. Are you going to eat that pasta? I should have ordered pasta.

Let me tell you all about myself! I have all these friends who are the BEST ever! I can gossip with them and giggle endlessly about other people! Did you know that Jennifer Aniston is dating John Meyer? I'm glad my friends and I can talk about all that important stuff together! I know if I ever had a real problem they would probably start acting really busy and not return my phone calls but they are seriously the BEST EVAR!!

I have this heinously boring job but I still love to talk about it! Especially about the clothes other people wear there and who's dating whom! It doesn't matter that you've never met any of these people, I'll still tell you all about them! It's almost like you DO know them! How lucky are you?

Well, dinner was nice but I'm awfully tired and there's a rerun of The Bachelor that I'm dying to watch! I'm going to pretend to offer to pay for the bill, but if you actually wanted me to pay any of it I'd be shocked! I don't even think I brought any money! Then I'd have to tell all my (BEST EVAR) friends about how you made me pay on the first date!

Well here we are, back at my place! Why don't you walk me to the door so we can have an incredibly awkward goodbye? How about you pretend you had lots of fun and say that we should do it again sometime? Ok, well awfully nice spending time with you! What was your name again?


Waiting (Part One)

I work part time in a restaurant. Mostly I do this for fun, also because the average age of people in my office hovers somewhere between Harrison Ford and the Crypt Keeper. Um also, there are some good looking eye-candy men in the restaurant biz. Oh ya plus there's the fact that I can't afford my lifestyle on a one person salary. Love buying shoes y'all.
Anyway usually I go in once a week, work a few hours, make some money, gossip, it's all good. Occasionally I get asshole "guests" (not allowed to call them customers). I'm not going to bitch about money/tips because that isn't why I work there (although $6 on $104? Really? Really?)
Instead, here are a few helpful pointers for my lovely guests.
  • When I am bringing over your food, please allow me to place it on the table before grabbing food off of it like a starving hyena. While I understand that the fries are delicious and that you have, apparently, not eaten in a week, today is not the day I want to go to emergency with 3rd degree burns because you couldn't wait two more seconds to stuff your face.
  • On a similar note: if I say the plate is hot, it is advisable for you to NOT grab it immediately. I'm not sure if you think I'm playing a little joke on you but rest assured I'm not standing behind you with another server giggling over the fact that you actually believed me and now refuse to touch your plate. If I'm giggling over anything it's the fact that I just won ten bucks by betting that you'd touch it in under five seconds.
  • If you are on medication or otherwise "intoxicated", it might be best to go home, curl up in your bed (fetal position is highly recommended) and have a good sleep. Our booths may be comfortable and all but nothing beats waking up at home. You know, as opposed to at my table, in a plate of mashed potatoes.
  • I appreciate it when you are understanding! It's nice to see your happy smiling face patiently waiting for me to grab your diet pepsi with three ice cubes and a lime and the water, no ice with a lemon. Can I offer you a peppermint tea with honey and milk or perhaps you'd like some hot fucking water with a side of kiss my ass?
  • If there is a sign that says "Seat Yourself" well by all means - go for it! Live a little, maybe grab a table that's close to the kitchen so you can hear the profanities spewing from the mouths of the cooks! Maybe try a high table with stools (you rebel)! If however, there is no sign, or a sign that says "Please Wait to Be Seated" why not wait for the goddamn host/ess. She/he will be delighted to escort you to a table (usually of your choice). There IS a system, we KNOW there are empty tables - feel free to sit in one if you like waiting for an hour to be served - because there is no server in that section.
  • I don't mind changing up the food a bit. You're on a low-carb diet? Aren't we all - so no potatoes for you, great! And your friend has an allergy to shellfish? Ok, super I will let the cooks know and we'll keep those pesky shrimps away from ya. No worries. Oh, little Billy wants the pasta but with tomato sauce instead? Consider it done. Now Grandma, as for your request for something that fits in with your gluten-free, low-sodium, no butter, allergic to nuts and garlic, hate cilantro, can't digest sugar and vegetarian is your water. Enjoy!


A Rant

Every office has a few "stereotypical" charactors. At least all of the offices I've worked in do (that would be two offices total...yup, expert over here). One such person is the bitter, practically retired, single older woman (usually an AA or EA or secretary).

I was lucky enough to have this stereotype as my assistant in my first office job ever (I kid you not. Can we say awkward?) That lasted all of three months. And me thinking "wow is this what working in an office is like? No thanks". She could complain about anything and everything and she DID. Things you wouldn't even think made a difference in anyone's life, she would complain about. For example there was a paperclip on the floor one time and she went on and on about how the cleaners must not be doing their jobs and I should write them a letter etc.

No, really.

Then they fired her and all was good in the world.

Anyway, now at my job the Presidents assistant is this exact woman reincarnate. Only worse I think. She treats everyone in a "lower position" as if they are the dumbest person she's ever been unfortunate enough to encounter. It's not what she says it's how she says it.

"Oh. Well it would have been REALLY great if you could have let me KNOW"

Look, just because you are unhappy with the way your life turned out; stuck in the same job you started in, only with a glorified title and extra "busy" work; never got married because you were above all that; can't believe you never took that trip/bought that house/took that job/risk; just because you have to point out flaws in others to be able to ignore the flaws in yourself; just because you are going to be alone, miserable and bitter for the rest of your life; it does not make it okay to make everyone else's lives miserable.

Thank you. I'm done.


...And Chocolate, Don't Forget the Chocolate

Tuesday afternoon I was having some issues. A stomach thing and it involves blood but I won't get into that. Anyway, I made my way to the Doctor after Googling my symptoms (I suggest NEVER doing this - all it managed to do was cause me to immediately think "I'm Dying, OMG I'm Dying").

Of course, as Murphy's Law dictates, anytime you have an embarrassing medical problem, there will be:
  1. The hottest Doctor ever
  2. A resident Doctor who is sitting in with your Doctor, learning and therefore has MORE embarrassing questions then the regular Doctor AND/OR
  3. You bursting into tears

Luckily my Doctor is female, so I avoided the first problem. I did however have a resident Doctor sitting in and I DID burst into tears (thanks again Google-Medicine). SinceI had stomach problems a few months ago and was tested for a few things already with no results, now they are looking at more serious possibilities.

As soon as the Doctor said the words "tumor" and "most likely benign" I just couldn't help it. I bawled. I'm sure it's nothing, she assured me it's probably nothing but it's still scary as hell.

I moped around at home Wednesday and Thursday. I know I'm being a drama queen and a hypochondriac but the fact that I had 5 vials of blood taken to check my hemoglobin and other wonderful things yesterday and that until I can get in to see the people who check for tumors I have to visit my Doctor on the regular, I'm not gonna lie - it fucking scares the shit out of me.

This calls for copious amounts of red wine...


Am I Going To Be Assassinated For This?

So I went to a luncheon yesterday to see the Premier speak. Nevermind the fact that I stuck out like a sore thumb (read: young, blonde wearing a royal blue sweater dress amongst the dozens of grey-haired Suits and the odd (older) woman sprinkled in for effect), poor Eddie doesn't have a clue. Um, Eddie is the Premier of Alberta - in case I lost you there. He honestly should have an ear piece feeding him what to say. Among his many gems during the Q & A :
  • "We had many meetings in regards to that. I went to a lot of meetings, but I didn't go to a lot of meetings" (translation: "those meetings are fucking boring, who actually pays attention?")
  • "Well if you can wait a couple months, 'so-and-so' is doing a talk on that coming up very soon" (translation: "I have no fucking clue what you're talking about. I think Pete may have mentioned that at some point in time")
  • When asked about which historical data he is using for planning the budget, pertaining to the oil sands, he somehow managed to talk for ten minutes about ring-roads, schooling and health care by the end of which everyone had just forgotten what the question was in the first place.

At least the steak was good.


An Explanation If I May

Ok maybe not so over pseudo-bf.

For some reason, I just started thinking about him and felt nauseous. Romantic, I know. Ha. Seriously though.

I guess I should backtrack a bit on this one...

I am not a romantic - candlelit dinner with soft music? Gag. "Sweetums" and "honey" and all kissy-face while walking down the street? Hurl. I find it too contrived, typical. Fake. Call me cynical, but I'd rather a guy spontaneously pick me up and carry me across a puddle. That kind of shit is sweet.

Anyway, pseudo-bf and I met over a game of poker. His friends thought we'd hit it off and luckily didn't let me know they were trying to set us up. Otherwise I hardly think I'd have gone. Anyway they were right; we hit it off, went out bla bla.

I hate the "what-exactly-are-we-doing-with-this-whole-dating-thing" conversation. Apparently pseudo-bf was not a fan either so we really didn't have it. He had broken up with his gf of 5 years not long before we met, I had moved out of my ex-bfs place 4 months earlier. It was understood that neither of us wanted a 'Commitment'.

And so it went; we went out for dinner, talked all the time, slept together, hung out all weekend etc. but he wasn't my boyfriend and yes, I saw other people. Then we had a talk where I told him that it wasn't working. Mainly I think I was scared that I wanted something else from him and unsure that he was willing to give it. He had told me he didn't want a 'relationship' for at least a couple years when we first met (ex-gf issues or whatnot - he is nothing if not totally honest). I think the are-we-booty-calls-or-not was too confusing for me. You don't generally talk pretty much every night with just a booty call.

Yet, I randomly started talking to him again 5 months later. I think the scenario was something like this:

Me: *drunk dialing from the bar* "Pseudo-bf! What are you doing?"
Pseudo-bf: "Alice?"
Me: "Can you come get me? I want to see you" (I'm drunk! And want lovin'!)
Pseudo-bf: (probably thinking I'm the most random person ever) "uh...sure, be there soon"

And then it started again with the talking all the time, weekends together and all that jazz. We were even in Vancouver on vacation at the same time and spent pretty much the whole time he was out there in his hotel room. He was on a friends stag so you can imagine. It actually worked out great. I would go out around dinner time with my friends who live there and he would go out with the stag guys and then we'd meet up partway through the night.

Anyway, shit hit the fan and I don't think I'm ready to deal with all that in this blog yet but it sucked. We didn't talk for a few months again. Then he called. He missed me. We tried to work things out but he was hurt, I was hurt. We would hang out a few times, get scared, stop talking.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Anyway, we had a "talk" recently where I told him I was fine with the way things were. I like going out with my friends on Fridays, I like meeting up with him and his friends later, I like hanging out on Saturdays in his T-shirts. I like that if I want to go out with the ladies on a Thursday, get drunk, and make a total ass out of myself I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

Now I'm not so sure. I think if he can't give me more (and I'm not exactly sure what I mean by that) I need to move on. I'm not that girl - the one who needs a boyfriend, the one who calls him all the time to see what he's up to, the one who gets upset if he goes out with his friends without (God-forbid) telling her. The girl who gets mad at him for every little thing. He's scared of that girl - hell, I would be, if I were a guy. He needs his space, his singledom, his whatever and I think he's afraid of me (or any girl) becoming that girl. Then again, I think after 2 years he'd clearly see I'm not about to be. I need my freedom as much as he needs his. I'm an Aries!

I mean, he's 31 now, and still things are the same.

I go through it on waves. Like on Thursday when he invited me out and I declined (so not normal of me. Not going to lie - I was totally considering it until I thought about the fact that I was wearing comfy pants and a ponytail already. The prospect of half an hour to get ready didn't thrill me). Then there was Friday - when I didn't answer (!) his call (!!) and was having an awesome time with O/N guy

But then today I miss him. Go figure.

Things I Hate About Monday

  • Not having quite recovered from the weekend
  • Feeling like pulling on old comfy lulus and curling up in the fetal position upon waking at 6:30 am...The feeling doesn't go away all day.
  • Trying to tell my coworkers about my weekend while having to omit all the funny/interesting stories for fear of reprimand and looking unprofessional. Basically I tell them what I did between 10 and 5 - which is...nothing.
  • Realizing that the piles of papers on my desk aren't going to miraculously disappear. Apparently just because you ignore something, it doesn't actually go away.
  • It's Monday, 'nuff said.


An Interesting Development...

Well I wasn't exactly successful in turning off my cell phone early but I also didn't really drink and didn't call pseudo-bf. In fact, a guy I dated in High School(!), that I ran into last weekend called me. He and a friend came to meet up with us for a drink and I didn't even think about pseudo-bf until he called me! (Side note: I wouldn't exactly call it dating. We slept together in high school).

Anyway, I didn't answer my phone but instead of feeling smug I felt a little sad. I think I'm actually through with him.

As for this old/new guy, (I'll call him O/N) I'm pretty glad I ran into him last weekend and that he came out last night. I think I may plan to run into him again.

It doesn't hurt that he's like 6'2" and can pick me up like I'm a sack of flour. Or something less fattening. Like salad.


TGIF. Or not.

I get a little perplexed whenever the New Girl comes to my office, or calls me for that matter. It’s not as though she’s not an intelligent girl I just think she actually is so new to her position and the office environment that she really, honestly doesn’t Get It. She called me to ask how many bottles of water get delivered each month. She lets the delivery person in, makes sure we have an adequate supply and signs the invoices. My office is on the opposite side of the building, yet I'm supposed to know these things?

Also, I received an email this morning from a service provider with NO punctuation. It reads something like this:

“All of the phone stuff has been completed will take up to 24 hrs to go through have faxed the invoice from may you were missing the invoice for the cases will be dropped off next time I am downtown did charge cc for may also.”

I can hardly make sense of it.

I’m so glad its Friday.

In other news, turning cell phone off early tonight so as to avoid inevitable calling of pseudo-bf. Have to tell myself to step away from the phone. At least he does the whole drunk dialing thing too (case in point – last night) so I’m not a complete and utter moron.


The Radar

I swear he has radar. I decide I'm done with him, this whatever-it-is we have and then he calls. Or texts or sends me an msn message. Why is it that as soon as I realize that I don't need this pseudo-relationship, pseudo-bf comes flying back in as though he's been watching my every move?

"Haven't heard from Alice in a while. She didn't call me last Friday, she had fun with her friends Saturday, she went out to a sports game tonight and didn't call - she must be getting over me. Time to fly in on my "Hey-I've-Missed-You-mobile" and nip that little dis-attachment in the bud".

And the biggest question - Why Do I Still Care??

Honestly, almost two years later and we're still doing this back and forth dance: Do-I, Don't I, Does-He, Doesn't He? To say it's complicated doesn't even begin to describe it.

The First of Many

Mostly I feel safe in this city, some days, not so much. Today the president of my company, trying to be helpful, advised me to pick up some bear-spray. I completely misunderstood and in my mind the conversation went like this:

The Pres: "Alice, do you have hairspray in your purse?"

Me: *thinking: what is wrong with my hair?*
", but there's some in the bathroom"

The Pres: *looking confused*
"Oh. Well you should think about getting some. For your purse."

Me: "Oh...ok, I'll look into it..."

Meanwhile, I dart to the bathroom and realize that he must have meant BEAR spray. We had been talking about a women getting attacked downtown.


He's probably really confused as to why there's bear spray in the womens washroom.