Flying. Again.

I know, I just got back. But I'm off to Calgary for work this evening. I feel like I need to start purchasing Carbon Offset Credits.

Read about it here:

• Carbonfund.org
• TerraPass
• NativeEnergy
  

I Woke Up, Appetite Returned!

First, to you lovely dollfaces, thanks so much for your concern re: my churning tummy. I know I am a sucky-sucky-poo-poo, and I went overboard on the feeling sorry for myself, but in truth, I haven't been ill, really upset-stomach-sleep-9/10ths-of-a-day ill in over a decade. Migrainy-headaches that needed to be slept off, yes, but this? Almost foreign to me. And I, quite seriously, had no idea what to do with myself. It's true: people who are used to being healthy? Make the WORST sick people ever.

Not really eating for four days made my ass disappear. I'm doing things that involve donuts and french fries to rectify the situation.

And talking about food, I want to introduce you to the clay charm-based necklaces of Pancake Meow.

I would very much like to have a scented (SCENTED!) mini PB&J sandwich hanging about my neck.

And I know a certain Creampuff who, I think, deserves one of these wee donuts:


I think it's a mixed blessing that most of Leslie's pieces are out of stock, or I'd have a mountain of cuteness headed to my mailbox. And really, who can handle that in the middle of winter?

PS: Richa, parenthood be damned! Email me, you stinker.

She's Been Taken Down!

By a stomach bug, or food poisoning, or someone with voodoo powers and a grudge. I must say, an upset stomach made the flight home from California even more lovely then usual. And this whole lack of hunger / inability to actually eat more then a couple of spoonfuls of oatmeal or applesauce? Not my favourite thing in the world.

I am feeling sorry for myself. Sigh.

Hello, Darkness

I have an incredibly precise body clock that, 95% of the time, wakes me up before my alarm goes off.

I'm currently in a place that is 3 hours behind my normal time zone.

My head knows this. My internal clock? Give it a big fuck you, and continues to wake me up at my normal, rut-like weekday wake-up time.

This, however, does have it's advantages, as I am able to have the hotel gym to myself, and rewatch episodes of Angel, The X-Files and ER (from when Mark Greene was still alive, not that stinky, Stamos-filled drama of today. Oh, Stamos, other then Blackie, you are just no good.) while working out.

I'll be happy to travel home tomorrow. And then head out across time zones again next week. Except that last bit is actually more a resigned bitterness. Because, on top of a 2 hour difference, visiting Calgary in the winter brings a deathly, skin cracking cold dryness.

Maybe I should just stay in California?

Monterey, You Are Lovely, If Not A Little...

Boring.

I said it. I said it, even if I believe that saying, "You're not bored, YOU'RE boring!".

After hitting the tourist traps, and the limited number of boutiques downtown, there really isn't much to do if you're a visitor to town. I even walked to the outskirts of town to spend some time at their mall, during down time at the conference, where I attempted to shop. To no avail.

Don't get me wrong - it's a lovely little town. But without a car, and the time, and therefor the option to head on down to Carmel, quaint quickly turns into boring.

I may be wishing to go back in time, and hint very heavily in the direction of UIE that San Francisco would have been a better option.

I should be aghast, complaining when the town is so beautiful, and I can walk about in just a sweater with the snow that is on the ground back home. And, in a way, I am. But that's not going to stop me!

And Off She Heads for Cal-i-Forn-Eye-Ehhhhhhh

Okay, not quite yet, but very, very early tomorrow morning. I will spare you the every present complaints about the traveling part of traveling, and leave you with a link to this very excellent blog instead:

• Andy Cohen, Bravo TV (US) Senior Vice President of Production and Programming

If you have watch an episode of at least on television show in the past 15 years, you'll thank me.

Also, here is a random picture of The Fonz. Just because.

Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot Piiiieeee

Remember when you were a kid and thought that growing up was all about drinking wine and kissing and having no one make you go to bed when you wanted to stay up and watch TV?

I swear, if I had known that it really meant being responsible and taking care of myself, I would've made like Donnie on Just Shoot Me, and faked brain damage to avoid it all.

Are you surprised to find out that I spent an hour at the bank, deciding on options to deal with topping up 2006's tax year's RSP contribution?

Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiieeee......

A Full Day

To Do:

• Perfect Transformer impression
• Book birthday dinner at Perigee
• Marvel at how I allow myself to be drawn into 24 each and every season

Results:

• Check
• Check
• Check
  

What, You Don't Post, and You Don't Give A Reason?

I know, I usually chatter on about the things that get in the way, but those things usually involve travel. Or monkeys. Or traveling with monkeys in a traveling monkey circus staffed by monkeys and robots and pirates.

Truth is, although I may be that girl who announces to the office at large "Just so you know, I did NOT pee myself. But I did spill herbal tea in my crotch just now", even when wearing black pants, when it comes to real-life bits? I'm a pretty private person.

But to get to the point of things: Last week, my Oma (for those not of Dutch or German descent, that would be grandmother) died. I think I avoided blogging about it for a number of reasons: she had been ill, and quietly dying, for quite a long time, and, to be truthful, unlike most people that I know, I wasn't close to my Oma. It's hard to know how to respond to heartfelt expressions of sympathy when you don't feel the deep kind of pain that, for instance, my mom felt at Oma's passing. And I didn't want to come across like I was looking for sympathy. If anything, the only thing that I wanted to do was be sympathetic, and be there for my mom, however she needed me.

And so I bring this all up to just be a horrible person. At a family member's passing, the crazy huge extended family that I'm a part of gathers. And this weekend, I saw cousins and children of cousins that I had either not seen for years, or, in fact, ever met. And I became transfixed by a hairstyle on one of my cousins that I hadn't seen since Rick Springfield, circa 1982.

I am a bad, bad person.

I have no excuse.

And the thinking back on the hair? It is still making me laugh.

I think I may be beyond repair.

My Love Affair with Bruce Campbell Continues

He has now made me love icky Old Spice. That's right, Mr. Campbell has gone and shot himself an Old Spice commercial.



Smoking jacket + ascot = super-awesomeness.

Coincidentally, one of the local Fox affiliates is airing Army of Darkness RIGHT NOW. Bruce, Bruce, how I love thee, Bruce.

Best Character Name of the Winter TV Season

Rockefeller Butts, The Knights of Prosperity. He went over the Falls in a barrel, baby.

It's a Pup-ny

Rory the Shetland pony thinks he's a puppy.

Things, Well, They Happen

Or they don't, and you sit around waiting, and wondering why it's taking so long. But then you see something like this, and all is right with the world.


Crab Man, I love you.

So A Chimpanzee and a Rabbit...

Get mailed to my house in the form of an excellent Christmas gift.


I am now pondering the exact, most awesome space to hang it.

New Template for a New Year

Yes, I know, we're two days in already, but better late then never with the good wishes to all, no? So there you go - Happy New Years, kids.

Talking about templates, it's nice to have one that has:

• Bullet points that aren't invisible.

I do wish, however, that there were more to choose from. And modules that would allow me to do things that Blogger currently isn't set up to handle. Seems like it might be time to think about changing platforms. But, me? Am cheap. So any cash-saving recommendations would be appreciated.

2006 Recap

In keeping with recapping tradition, here's what 2006 looked like.

(Instructions: take the first sentence (or 2) from the first post of each month of 2006. That's your year in review.)

When I was a wee baby, I used to want to grow up to be a horse. And that is completely apropos of NOTHING.

When I was in primary school, one thing that I looked forward to every year was the MS Readathon. Did I care that the money raised went towards Multiple Sclerosis research? Hell no. But a sport for your brain? Ohhhh, yeah.

Jeff, my trainer, fairly murdered my biceps and back this morning. I have been walking around all day, arms cradled around each other, perhaps making dinosaur noises.

And not ass of the hot buttered variety, either. But as a child, I devoured them with much aplomb, even though I suspect the chocolate? At least 75% plastic.

Some of you may be wondering why I haven't mentioned Rick Springfield's performance on the Daytime Emmy Awards on Friday. Let me just say that I only recently pulled out of the swoon it put me in.

It must be a fashiony day! Look what arrived at my house this week. Oh, BCBG, how I love you:

But without the tripping. And without the funny.

Although I fear by stating such that the exact opposite will come true. But, still - today I met with my renovation project's new project manager, and their countertop supplier came in to measure my cabinets for their top.

Well, except for paint touch-ups, that is. What am I talking about? Why, my bathroom renovation, of course!

Get your mind out of the gutter - I'm referring to my car. And the crazy lady who ran into my rear end this morning on the way to work.

Crushes come and go, and I've moved on, and on again, to a new love.

That would make me so happy, I would clap like a seal!

An Excellent Toaster

And look how cute it looks in my kitchen!


I can't remember a time in my life when I've actually been in possession of a pop-up toaster. It's always been toaster-ovens-or-bust in my house, because, why have a machine that only does one thing when you can have one that does two or three (usually none of them very well).

Thankfully, it makes an awesome piece of toast, and has made friends with its neighbours, the food processor (ROBOT CUISENAIRE!) and spice grinder. Plus, defrost and reheat options! Slots big enough to toast a bagel!

It really is love, I think.

Proof That There's a Reason for the Immaturity

If you've been anywhere near a TV in the past couple of years, you've seen Drs Michael Roizen and Mehmet Oz on the talkshow and newsmagazine circuit, flogging their book You: The Owner's Manual.

As a part of their official site, they've provided an extensive questionnaire that calculates your real age, taking into account your lifestyle, as well as medical and family histories. Enlightening, indeed.

Wondering how I fared?

Calendar Age: 32.8
Real Age: 24.3

See? I told you there was a reason for the silliness. And now there's proof.

Making Out Like A Bandit

Is what I feel like I did yesterday, with my Christmas loot. And though the holidays aren't supposed to be about the presents, I am still honest enough to admit that they sure do make me happy.

But even better? Watching the people who you've bought something for unwrap and examine, and, if you're lucky, turn to you with just that look in their eyes, like you got them the exactly right thing. Then you feel like both Smokey AND the Bandit (wedding dress and porn-stache optional) .

Completely unrelated, until this morning, I had thoughts of purchasing yet another Mackage. Then I really started to think about it - although lovely, the things that have really made me happy over the past few years have been the things I've experienced, instead of the things that I have. Even though the things I have are freaking awesome. So I'd rather give myself an excellent birthday - whether I stay in town or take off for a weekend - and have something excellent to remember and think on and savour for ages to come.

Where You Been?

I have been even less prolific then usual this week, and I put it all down to the fact that vacations turn me into a sloth, like this:


And sometimes, like this:


HEY YOU GUUUUUUUYS.