Rofl Rick Mercer talks to some Americans. Keep an eye out for the kid!

I freaking love Canadian humour!

I can smell spring in the air, but it's still bloody cold in the mornings. The cherry blossoms are all out, as are the plums, turning downtown into a pink and white snowfall. The sun is out today, which is nice. Makes the office seem less like a fishbowl. I feel like I'm in a fishbowl, especially at night because of the way the counter curves and the plate-glass follows it. Actually, I feel like I'm in a fishbowl, period. *glub* Look! I'm a goldfish! (Probably one of those funny buggy-eyed ones, knowing my luck.)

Right now it just feels like I've got behind in everything. I suppose that's a combination of procrastination and just plain old blues. Blues. Whatever. I've been so fucking apathetic lately it's hard to get anything done. I make lists in my head of all the things I have to do, or should do, or would like to do and I feel like it's too much. Which is ridiculous. I've managed before this, I don't know why it is that writing a reply to an email, or folding towels has become too much fucking effort. (Ok, the email thing is largely due to frustration, since I need my computer to stay ON more than three minutes to actually write a reply and for some reason I can't log into the stupid thing on J's comp so I end up writing the same line 6 times and I still can't get the fucking thing off. That's what makes it too much effort. The towels are a drag because it means taking all the other towels out of the closet to refold them because they never seem to stay in the neat stacks I make in the first place. It's like doing the job twice, which feels like a waste of time.) People do this shit all the time and have enough energy for extras and I can't figure out where my energy went.

Is this what comes from not having any goals?

OK. I lie.

I have goals. But they're over there and I’m over here standing in this sea of half-done chores and piles of crap that really have no place. I kid you not. There's a heap of it next to J's desk and I have no idea what even it all is. I think there's a Nintendo 64 and some games, but he's managed to contribute to the pile until there's this heap of papers and crap that is just there and isn't anything useful. Same with the bookshelf on the other side and there’s another in the hall that I think is mostly shoes we don't wear. There's one next to my desk (though mostly confined to the shelf there) and in the bedroom. I need to be ruthless one day, or feel ruthless and get rid of it all.

I have to just suck it up and just do shit instead of letting all this crap weigh me down.

'Course, I think the state of the house is only half the problem. The rest of it is in my head and I've not figured out how to take a step away from it and examine its parts. It's like there is a malevolent mold in there, creeping into the crevices and turning everything into a sickly looking ball of fuzz – kind of like how pasta looks after it's been sitting in a pot on the stove for two weeks. Or that violent orange that potatoes sometimes get. (Don’t ask how I know these things... we'll say it was an experiment... yes. That's it.) Can't figure out if it's because I'm missing something, some nutrient or stimulus that would dispel this weird growth, or if I've just contracted some strange disease that there's a stupidly common cure for. (You know, something like a rash that itches like a sonofabitch that you find out later you could have cured with bread? Yeah, like that.) The answer is staring me in the face, I know it and I just can't fucking see it.

Ugh. Think I'm going to shovel some crap out of this sty we call an apartment and then maybe I'll be able to find enough space to take that step back.

*edit*

Much better. I have a floor!

listening to: Razed in Black - Erotica
quote of the day: Spring is here. Why doesn't my heart go dancing? ~Lorenz Hart
Reading: A Feast for Crows - George R. R. Martin

Apparently I've bought the wrong kind of socks for work. No, this is not the highlight of my week, (what do you take me for? Some boring working type? Oh... nevermind.) but it's the thing I just realised since I just took the stupid things off to find a lovely sock-pattern around my ankle where the elastic has cut in and made them look like old-lady ankles; all wierd and puffy. Damn you generic black socks!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINDSIE! I hope your day was full of cake and happy things!

Last weekend I got to spend with two of my girls and we had a blast. Thankies Nomes for introducing me to the one and only sushi place! And I'm glad we had girly drinks. That was well worth it, as were the kitty-somersaults. Poor Monk! Now I have to get some catnip for the girls.

J's gone out tonight for his semi-annual support of some fund-raiser called the dart-a-thon. Basically an excuse to stay up all night drinking beer and throwing pointy objects at a wall. Well, hopefully at the wall. The later it gets the scarier that combination becomes. He wanted to go and see how Mark was doing. He did ask if I wanted to go, but I said I really had no use for Mark, or his sibling, or anyone else that might be there drinking and throwing darts at each other so I said no. Then he said something like "my girlfriend doesn't want to go out with me, I see". Silly man.

*edit*

No. I didn't go. J did and had some fun, which is good because he needed it. I dimly recall him stumbling into bed at about 6am and snuggling up to me. I know this because I squinted at the clock and it said 5:50...

Nelly Furtado Day?

You know that saying 'ignorance is bliss'? It may be bliss, but it sure as hell can cause a lot of trouble. Case in point: When you're trying to justify a war in another country, shouldn't you know what you're up against? Hell, shouldn't you know how you really differ instead of just assuming you do? THis article about how 'literate' America is in regards to religion - any religion, even their own, is actually quite scary.

And another thing that's just a tab scary? How about an entire generation of princess wannabe's?

I hear and see some really wierd stuff while at work, and get asked some pretty funny questions in the bargain. For example, I may already have mentioned the woman who wanted to know where the tunnel was from the Island to Vancouver and when we told here there wasn't one she was so insistant, and even got to the point of hysterics that Lady J and I looked at each other and said "there isn't, is there?" We ended up giving her directions to the ferry terminal, but to this day we can't figure out quite how she imagined she'd been in one.

Yesterday I overheard a woman talking to another while waiting in line: "I don't know if he was gay or just European!" she said. Heh....

And then there was the one who asked me where she could get totem pole seeds.

You don't believe me, do you?

Last week though, I had a really good lesson on why you should always wash your hands after handling money. I mean, that should be a no brainer, but how many of you actually do it? I had a customer lick her money before she gave it to me. Not, lick-your-thumb-before-counting-it, I mean full on tongue-to-paper lick the freaking bill. And then she counted it and put it into the tray for me, wet end first. I seriously had to struggle not to make a face as I poked it about so I could pick up the non-soggy bit and count it myself. I tell you I washed my hands a few times after that! Oh and I gave those bills out to my next customer. *evil grin*

Labels: silly stuff