Lonely

I'm homesick. My Twitter/facebook update would go something like this if I wasn't afraid of sounding too vulnerable in front of the whole world:

Missing the sound of the furnace kicking on, the water sloshing around in my pillow, the feel of my bamboo sheets against my legs, the zen view from the couch, the hum of the fridge, my bedside water carafe, blue LEDs in my computer, the knowledge that I can walk around in the dark with minimal risk of bodily injury... Which is not to say that I am unhappy. Just feeling alone in the Universe and disconnected from the things which normally comfort me.

But actually, I am unhappy. I bought two pairs of shoes today which almost makes up for this disconnected, discombobulated feeling. Almost. Something isn't right in the world. I know what it is. It's the reason I spent the latter part of this evening watching the hockey game with a glass of sauvignon blanc and my shopping bags in a bar on Davie Street. I don't know how to fix it though. These things are apparently quite beyond me. What I want most is to bolt. I'm really good at running away. But what if I run away and never come back?

My chest

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Oops, I did it again

Holy comments Batman! Okay fine, I will spill the beans.

Rain had it right in his comment on my last entry. So.SO.RIGHT. What do you know? I mixed beer and liquor. In the same glass. Three times.

Jesus and I went to the Bier Market and I love their take on my old standby, the Kir Royale. At the Bier Markt, naturally it's called a Bier Royale. We started out by having a good time but then a heinous combination of sequences occurred. I was drunk. He was drunk. Too drunk to drive, in fact. Which was not cool. He was clingy and gropey and condescending. Actually, he was that guy in the club who is being a complete jackass jerk to his date and you wonder why she's there with him because clearly she's cute and can do better. Okay fine, that's what the cute boy (Paul? Or was it Sean?) said to me. "Why are you with him? You obviously don't want to be. And you're cute. You can do better". Uh, hi Paul, YOU are a cutey-patootie. Can I put you in my pocket and take you home? Sorry, I digress...

I was irritable and cranky (okay perhaps this has nothing to do with booze!) and totally a complete bitch to him because I was tired of him constantly grabbing me and crowding me while we were dancing. Not to mention the completely condescending random comments about trivial meaningless crap. Ugh, gropey and condescending. How is this a turn on? Play hard to get dammit, but don't be a jerk. Ugh. Listen gentlemen, when we're out in public and I repeatedly take your hand off my waist, don't keep grabbing it! AUGH.

Anyway, when cutey pie Paul ended up with butchy she-male in a wife-beater, Jesus noticed me noticing them and said, "are you jealous?" "No, but I didn't think he'd end up with her". "True, he can do better." "Well, that's what he said about me."

Collective blog gasp.

Yes, it was a totally bitchy thing to say but, by that time, I had had enough of his condescending bullshit and gropey wandering hands and should have left on my own terms. But he had my coat check ticket (house keys were in the coat) and my leftover pizza in his car and he was too drunk to drive anywhere. I kept telling myself that here a nice guy and I should be more forgiving and less of a complete raving beyotch. Just goes to show that my judgment where men are concerned is completely, totally, utterly worthless.

So, I walked home drunk by myself and he followed for a bit. I don't know when I lost him, maybe about half way, which is when I phoned MFV. And, though he was drunk himself, he was smart enough to realize that I was not okay. He insisted that I text when I got home and then phoned me later to make sure I was actually alive. I was fast asleep and have no recollection of the conversation. He does want to know what happened but I can't bring myself to tell him. Yet. Maybe next weekend. Or next month. Or never.

I'm too ashamed of myself. I should not have let myself get into that predicament with a strange man, even if His name is Jesus! A girlfriend pointed out on Saturday that he's actually only just doing the minimum to try and get me in bed before I leave. He's not meeting my friends or having dinner but he has no problem taking me to bar and getting me drunk. Thank God I didn't have sex with him. I confess though, I did think about it. I mean, maybe if he hadn't been a total jerk and we both hadn't been disgusto drunk... Ugh.

So, I'm over Jesus and this really is the epilogue in my dating memoirs. I guess I should change the title of this blog again. Suggestions? "How about Catatonia and catnaps: the chronicles of a catless cat lady".

Date number 2

At least, I think it was a date. It was just drinks and, in fact, I only had one pear cider. We closed the place down. Again! I talked a lot. I really must stop doing that. I know next to nothing about him. "Date" number 3 is on Sunday. Brunch and a moovie. I'm looking forward to it.

I can't explain why I like this guy. Maybe because he has been my therapist this week! He is a great listener, and not just because he lets me go on at length. Because he really seems to be paying attention.

Also, he seems nice. And I'm ready for nice. Really ready. I need a hug and for someone to hold me up and tell me everything is going to be okay.

Second interview

I'm drunk. I had two glasses of red wine with dinner and wow did I ever need those. I got drunk and silly with my coworker, one of the grad students and my coworker's friend. He is totally my type - older, glasses geeky and in finance. Uhhh hello?! Except, she already told me he's bad in bed. So I'm getting into my bed alone tonight. As I have done for weeks. The interview went... well, fuck, I really have no idea. The veep isn't the kinda guy who cracks a smile. Me, I'm frigging permasmile when I'm in loooove. No poker face here. Oh well, wait and see, I guess. I don't really know what I want anymore. So, here in my drunkenness I'm going to disclose personal information which I probably should not post on my blog.

BC offer: $X5K, 4 weeks vacation, $5K moving allowance, promotion
This job offer match: $X3K plus 4 weeks vacation or $X5K plus 3 weeks vacation. Actually, I really want $X5K plus 4 weeks but I am certain that's not an option. I also don't want the hassle of moving back out west, even though I want to live there and I want to be closer to MFV. And my family, obviously (blarf).

Tea and ladies

Why don't men call when they say they're going to call? What is up with that? I hate it and I probably will never understand it. It frustrates me and I feel unloved, insignificant and neglected. Thank God for girlfriends and afternoon tea and tiny scones with devon cream and tea in teapots with teacups and saucers and strainers and all the dainty things that make me happy. Also, I am looking forward to copious amounts of alcohol tonight. (By copious, I mean two drinks).

2^ 5 has been the best birthday ever

I just had the best birthday ever. MFV phoned at 11.30 to wish me a happy almost birthday and we probably talked for a couple of hours about stuff and stuff. It was tough to get up in the morning but it sorta felt like Christmas - minus that whole having to go to work thing. I got my free birthday latte from Starbucks - yay! - and my coworkers took me out to lunch which was so surprising and really nice. I really did not expect that at all. I even brought my lunch today which I NEVER do.

In the afternoon, I met up with my financial advisor. That was my birthday present to myself. I didn't lose as much as I thought in the last couple of years. Only around 4 or 5% of my portfolio. This was due to sheer dumb luck. When I last saw her in 2007, I had intended to buy a place in 2008 so we moved a lot out of equity into money market. Then, because I didn't see her for 2 years, we never moved it back out and I weathered the storm quite nicely. Actually, I should give her more credit for that. I'm sure that if I had been too aggressive with my equity balance, she would have let me know. She also asked me about my target retirement age. Whether I was looking at 60 or 55. I laughed and said 55 would be nice but, considering that I'm 32 years old today and still don't own a house, I doubt I can do both. She said she would run some numbers and see what happens.

Then the girls came over this evening for dinner. Pink dress made vegetarian chili which is phenomenal. Our mutual friend brought wine and cheese, all of which were fabulous. She also brought over molten chocolate lava mini cakes. Oh lord. And my belly dance teacher brought herself and some cheery spirits. It was really nice. It was good to feel loved. Also, my facebook wall literally exploded today. It was really unexpected and overwhelming and touching to feel so much love in my life.

But the icing on my cake might have been unexpectedly receiving a gift in the mail from MFV. He mailed me a Moroccan teapot stuffed with chocolates from Daniel le chocolat Belge. And a really sweet card. I might be falling in love with that stupid boy.

Yeah, what D said...

Oh wow! I was *totally* here today. I was heading out to meet coworkers for a post division meeting drink and couldn't find the stinkin' pub. After having a shitty day at the office, I almost went home in tears. But I forced myself to buck the shit up and call someone to get directions. I downed a very large glass of red wine and faked it for an hour. Now I'm home and bed looks so good that I may stomp on my phones, throw the computer out the window and never emerge from my pillow cocoon. Fuck you, life, I hate you!

I drunk

Thursday, bubbles, weed and sex.
Friday, bubbles and fondue and Crown and ginger.
Saturday, red wine.
Sunday, tea.
Monday, sangria, blow job (free, with whipped cream, look ma no hands!), beer.
Tuesday...

Couch to 5K - Item 3 on the Shawshank List

I went to the gym today. It's on my bucket list (which is actually more of a Shawshank list) and I decided I needed some motivation so I Googled Couch to 5K and found Carli's website with some running playlists. I downloaded Week 1 and it is really great. It helped me get to the gym, kept me on the treadmill and I was actually disappointed when it was over! I am not exactly new to running but I have neglected the gym for the past two months. I just figured that, if I had enough energy to work out, I should be working on my thesis instead, right? Anyway, it felt good to go back to the gym and the workout was pretty straightforward. I won't say it was easy but it wasn't too challenging and I'm looking forward to going to the gym for the rest of this week.

This is not entirely an altruistic goal. I'm going to Mexico for a week next Sunday and the thought of standing next to 20-something-year old bikini clad bodies is excruciatingly intimidating. Now that I find myself in my 30s, I definitely have better self-esteem and that translates into better body image. I have some problem areas which I never had in my 20s but gravity and stress and age have taken their toll. So I'm working on the abs, the shoulders and triceps and overall cardio this week.

The hard part will be to eat better. I went out for Indian in Yorkville last night and ended up painfully full. I walked home but was still uncomfortable after the chilly evening half-hour walk. Then, this afternoon, I had high tea (again in Yorkville, my credit cards are weeping) and walked home again. I no longer stuff myself at tea because of my egg allergy but I did inhale a lot of cream and scones. God, so yummy. It was a party in my mouth this weekend. (Friday night was bubbles and fondue with the grad students followed by a tiny bit of bar hopping in Little Italy).

The final part of the plan is to run a 5K in November at the end of the 9 week program. Ontario is going to be mighty chilly at that time of year so maybe I should look for a run in Vancouver. Or the Caribbean somewhere :) I haven't fully thought that through yet but I will have a lot more free brain power now that the thesis is done.

Here is the rest of my Shawshank list:

1. Read the paper
2. Make dim sum
3. Go to the gym -- check!
4. Go to the library
5. Go to my favourite restaurant in Little Italy
6. Clean apartment -- check!
7. Purge stuff in "office"
8. Sell microwave
9. Sell U2 tickets
10. Go to the movies (at least two)
11. Start watching Entourage
12. Lie on the grass - it's getting too cold for this :(
13. Look into fall classes (culinary, photography, Italian)
14. Watch documentaries and nap
15. Take new drug plan info to pharmacy (yes, boring but it needs to be done)

It's funny because it's true

Including myself. I'm a cold-hearted bitch.

Defense T minus 11

Defense is on August 27 at 2 pm. I am starting to feel overwhelmed and stressed and anxious. Really, the thing that worries me most is the unpredictability of questions. Everything else will be okay provided I spend every spare second of every day between now and then preparing thoroughly. I have to finish my presentation before Thursday which is when I will be doing a run-through with my supervisors. Then I have another week to think of and prepare answers to questions. Basically, anything I wrote in 150+ pages is up for debate. I'm scared.

I took yesterday off to decompress with the other grad students. We had brunch at Watermark in the Harbourfront Centre and ended up at the beach at Ward Island which was actually not completely disgusting. We may go back in two weekends when we're done with our defenses. In the evening, we ordered pizza and had a drink and bitched and moaned and complained about school and thesis supervisors. It was fun and I might even miss these girls when we're done. I probably won't see them again after convocation.

Meanwhile, Grey went here last night. http://www.wickedclub.com/

I don't know how much more of his crap I can take. I know that I have been saying that for the last year and a half but I'm starting to feel used and abused. Underappreciated and taken advantage of. It's wearing me down slowly. Well, maybe when the thesis is over, I will welcome the drama back into my life.

Speaking of drama, MFV might come visit at the end of September on his way to Morocco. While I want to go with him to Morocco, I'm not sure if our friendship can stand this test of real life exposure. I haven't seen him in 3 years. I don't know if he knows what he wants from me but I'm tired of guys flip flopping between wanting to be with me and not wanting to be with me. Don't I deserve to be with a man who knows what he wants? I guess I will wait to worry about him until I see a flight number.

Also, that place I didn't make an offer on? It sold for more than $30K above asking. It appears I can't actually afford to buy the type of place I want in this godforsaken city. It has been a bad news day all around.

Must practice lying

A couple of funny things happened tonight while I was hanging with the septuagenarian crew that I just have to blog about.

First: Indian alcohol advice.

Whiskey then beer: in the clear,
Beer then whiskey: very risky.

Second: I really must practice lying.

The folks etc were hanging out talking and shooting the shit when they got to talking about experimenting with drugs. I was quietly minding my business reading my thesis on the couch when my "aunt" (who is very cool and a wonderful person) turns to me and says, "Ms B, have you ever tried marijuana?"

Holy duck, I almost had an aneurysm! Normally I would not have lied to her but in front of my parents!

So I said, "no! And even if I had, I would lie in front of my parents!"

Frig. I'm not sure my parents were convinced and I couldn't even look at my dad after that for a while. Mind you, he didn't look at me either so I wonder what he has been up to.

Must practice my poker face!

My first husband

I left the dog with the other wheatens today and went with my friend to have dinner with her brother and his girlfriend at Fionn McCool's on the Esplanade. While there, my friend struck up a conversation with an Irish man at the next table. At the end of the night, just as we were leaving to get the dogs, he announced to his table of friends that I was his second wife. I just didn't know it yet. It was funny. He is a 54 year old detective in the "interesting" and busiest part of Toronto. I have nothing in common with him. In fact, my friend and he had much more in common: a love of Irish history, music and trivia. But it was nice to have an older man tell me that I am lovely :)

Medicating with food

I was on the subway platform today at Queen's Park. It doesn't really matter why or where I was going. I stood there, leaning against the wall and my thoughts wandered over to C le V. And I got all teary eyed and weepy. On the fucking subway platform.

What the hell is wrong with me?

On a totally unrelated note, I have decided what my five main food groups are: cheese, chocolate, coffee, carbs and alcohol. I wanted to make "dessert" a food group but there are so many desserts I can't eat because they are made with eggs.

I had pancakes today for the first time in years. They were egg-free. Tomorrow I intend to eat more. They're banana pancakes but I don't have maple syrup so I'm going to eat them with nutella instead. Right after pilates class. Then I'm going to bake brownies in the evening. I think the only civilized way to get through single Sundays is with copious quantities of chocolate.

Is it still considered drinking alone if I go out for brunch by myself and have a mimosa?

No closure here

I find myself mentally making lists of all the things that could have gone wrong during and since that weekend in Montreal:

I said something heinous.
I did something heinous.
I wasn't fun enough.
I wasn't funny enough.
I wasn't well-dressed enough.
I didn't pretend to have a good time when I wasn't feeling well.
I got upset when he started to be distant with me.
I was too clingy.
I was too honest.
I didn't stroke his ego enough.
I wasn't bitchy enough.
I was too bitchy.
I don't make enough money.
I pay too much rent.
I paid too much attention to him.
I sent him too many emails.
We didn't have enough sex.
The sex wasn't good enough.
His friend/sister said that she didn't like me.
He got bored.
He got scared.
He met someone.
He got back together with his ex.

Okay, I realize I will never know but making the list makes me feel better.

Today we had a St Paddy's day party at the office. I grabbed a glass of white wine but I didn't have time to drink it before I went to the gym. So I dumped it into my travel mug and brought it home. How terrible is that?? Anyway, I'm going to finish it off and go to bed.

Awesome Friday night

My friend in the painted pink dress made me go out tonight. First we went shopping for a bed. Then we went to Little India for dinner. And after that, we went clubbing. It's going to hurt in the morning but we had a ridiculously good time. We got picked up by two Italian guys named Mario and Giovanni. They were so stereotypically Italian that it was outrageously funny. They had expensive suits and big chains and shirts unbuttoned halfway down to their stomachs. They were really good dancers, I will give them that, even with the wandering hands syndrome! They spent the entire night dancing with us and I have to confess that I had fun, even if I had to keep moving their hands away from my piercing! At the end of the night though, we had to ditch them or risk getting groped and fondled in their limo. I feel bad about giving away Mario's tie to one of the (really hot) bouncers but it was payment for letting us out the alternate exit. We jumped straight in a cab and came home. Giggling the entire way. I highly recommend going out with just one girlfriend to anyone who needs to just let loose and forget all their troubles. I can't believe how late it is! To bed, and to a Dirty Dancing matinee in 10 hours. Eep.

Photographic proof

Our mutual friend posted a photo of me and Capitaine le Vomi on crackbook this evening. I actually have no recollection of the photo even being taken and it took me a few minutes to figure out where we were. I mean, logically I knew it was at the bar that fateful night he acquired his nickname but I don't really remember him being that up close and personal with me. I remember mostly distance and awkwardness on my part in response to his drunken flirtatiousness. That was just prior to creepy drunk club guy hitting on everything with boobs pinball type "dancing" behaviour. It was truly classy and reminds me how little I know him. A couple of people immediately concluded his behaviour that night was a result of his being nervous to see me. Which is logical because I was feeling pretty nauseated between Belleville and Montreal and then experienced this weird, jittery, throat-clenching fear from the moment we started getting ready to his double cheek kiss. But I don't know? Do guys get that way too? I mean, guys that register 13 on the looks scale? I'm not sure.

In the photo, he has his arm wrapped around my shoulder so tightly that I'm basically tucked into his side. It's not an awful photo, if you can get past how utterly drizzunk we both look. I'm shiny and droopy eyed and his eyes are rimmed red. Now I realize how wasted he must have been even that early in the night. I messed around with it a bit and we look much better grainy and in black and white. I made it my desktop photo. I just can't believe that's the first photo taken of us "together". Yikes. I can't wait for him to see it when he gets home from his vacation. I wonder if he'll be mortified or think it's funny... 7 more sleeps til I see him again!


Hey Asshat, on a completely unrelated note, am I crazy (that's rhetorical) or is H commenting as both Michelle and GOD?

Oh dear...

I ended up partying tonight. It's Wednesday! Well, technically I suppose it's Thursday. Ouch, this is going to hurt in the morning. We started at Spice Route and then ended up at lobby. The vodka-cran would have been okay... if it hadn't been for the mystery vodka shots with lime around midnight. And it's too late to place a booty call! I need a younger booty buddy. Someone who answers his phone after midnight. Urgh...

Better

Emotionally, anyway. I talked to my former Valentine last night when I got into bed and he made me laugh. Physically, I feel like I got hit by a train. Jagermeister is not my friend. Ugh. I need to do some work and then go to a baby warming event. I hope the baby isn't screaming when I get there. I'm hopped up on pain meds as it is and can't take anything for the hangover. Ugh.