Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Might Throw Up

The phrase "I just threw up a little" has been coming up (ha ha - EWWW) alot here at El Casa Katr & Roro. Our time is being spent in the following ways:

- Trying to find an apartment in Vancouver over the information superhighway that is not, to quote Katr, a "shitbox"

- Trying to get rid of our furniture via Craig's List

- Trying not to be insta-furious when losers from Craig's List SCREW US by standing us up

- Meeting some lovely people who've bought our furniture off Craig's List

- Encouraging gullible friends to take our furniture/books/videos/fish/booze off our hands (this part has been highly successful)

- Packing

- Meeting guys named Bob who'll give us quotes on moving our stuff to an apartment we don't have yet

- Talking to our real estate agent about things like "staging" and "how the other unit currently for sale in our building smells like an ashtray but shows like it's a beautiful page out of Incredibly Boring Gay Man Taupe and Dark Leather Furniture Weekly"

- Crying

It has also occurred to me that there are certain things around the house that only I "know how to do". This includes:

* Cleaning the fish tanks (Jealous?)

* Using our coffee maker (only I know the secret of the mighty Java. ME!!)

* Setting our space age alarm clock (I am the Queen of the Clock Radio and CBC's Andy Barrie is my Court Jester)

* Having access to the storage locker (I alone know the location of the keys)

* Making delicious breakfast smoothies even when there's no yogurt or bananas

Obviously, before I leave on Thursday, Katr will have to be instructed in "how to do these things" and once she knows, I AM DISPOSABLE. I can only hope that my goofy charm and mad dance skillz will continue to keep her in thrall. Just in case, though, I'm taking the storage locker keys on tour.

Creampuff Watches Too Many Crime Shows

I woke up this morning and realized that today's Katr's last day at her current job. She is sad to leave all of her smart, funny, generally wonderful (and oddly blogless except for the lovely Melissa) colleagues.  But as she pointed out to me a few days ago, it's nice to be leaving a job to pursue an exciting new opportunity rather than leaving a job because you know that the "colleague homicide" you committed would definitely stay in your permanent HR file and could ultimately affect your pension.

As I was pondering Katr's job-leaving this fine morning, she disappeared into the bathroom and when the door clicked shut (because we will NEVER LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN WHEN WE GO TO THE BATHROOM, NO MATTER HOW LONG WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER) I suddenly remembered what had happened the morning of Katr's FIRST day at her current job.

As I say, we always close the door to the bathroom, even when it's late at night and the other person is asleep. Also, we always leave the door to our bathroom closed at night, because we get alot of light pollution from the bathroom. So at about 4:00 a.m., I got up to use our bathroom. And I discovered that the door was locked.

I looked back at the bed. There was Katr, blissfully snuffling her way through a dream that I hope contained naught but rainbows and puppies. So if Katr was in the bed and the door to the bathroom was locked - WHO THE FUCK WAS IN THE BATHROOM??

I was instantly more awake than I had ever been. Also, I really had to pee. Torn between abandoning my girlfriend with a potential intruder and the desperate need to make, I took the cordless phone, dialed 9-1-, then backed out of the room and went to the other bathroom. As I was whizzing away, ears cocked for the sounds of an intruder, I noticed the little push-in lock on the doorknob. After some quiet experimentation, I determined that it was possible to push the lock in without closing the door, which meant that if I was dumb, I could lock myself out of my own bathroom. Hmm.

You'd think that having discovered this quirky bathroom lock fact, I would then decide that that was precisely what had happened in the master bathroom. That clearly Katr or I, in a sleepy stupor, had bumped into the doorknob and activated the lock and locked ourselves out of our own bathroom. But no. What I decided was that the intruder in the washroom had also figured out this thing with the bathroom lock and was simply TRICKING me into thinking that the locked door was our fault and that there was nothing to fear. And then, when we went to sleep, he/she would strike.

I longed to wake Katr, but she hadn't been sleeping very well and I really didn't want to fuck up her first day at work by waking her up at 4:00 a.m. with a hissing whisper and the beeps of the cordless phone as I repeatedly dialed 9-1-. Also, I knew there was a slight chance - only slight, mind you - that I was being a doofus. So I compromised by easing back into bed, clutching the cordless phone to my chest and commenced staring intensely at Katr in a passive aggressive attempt to wake her up using only the power of my mind.

Two hours later, my will prevailed. Katr opened her eyes to find me staring at her intently, clutching the phone and wearing shoes in bed. "What?" she said suspiciously. In a voice almost hoarse from silent mind screaming, I explained the locked bathroom door situation, trying not to sound like a crazy person. To her credit, she neither laughed at me nor did she freak out at how not getting into the bathroom where our grooming products were might screw up her day. Within 5 minutes, she had picked the lock with a ballpoint pen, entered our empty bathroom and hopped in the shower. I, on other hand, sheepishly replaced the cordless phone on its cradle. Then I took off my shoes.

So happy last day of work, Katr! May your next first day be fraught with less freakishness on the part of me. Also, YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE ME.

Creampuff Has a New Addiction

Last night, three different babes came to my apartment and gave me money. I made $120 in less than two hours and all I had to do was post some sexy pictures like these on the internet!

http://toronto.craigslist.org/fur/183408785.html

http://toronto.craigslist.org/hsh/183393275.html

http://toronto.craigslist.org/msg/183329842.html

I could get used to this. The only thing is that at some point, we will run out of furniture.

Creampuff and Katr to Become Dope-Smoking West Coast Hippy Freaks

Well, folks, it's official. Katr has a fancy new job and we are a-movin' to Vancouver! Like, uh . . . NOW! I know, I know - it's as surprising as a picture of me with Lex's hilarious, delicious and much appreciated Timbit bouquet!

Jealous? I was thinking about getting headshots done at some distant point in the future, but now I don't have to! Because no photo will ever represent the inner me quite like this one. Well . . . maybe a photo where I was eating one of the Timbits.

And now it's time for my favourite part of any largely informational post: the FAQ's.

FAQ: What's . . . HAPPENING?

A:  Well, it's like this. We're moving to Vancouver. So we're packing up everything we want. We're giving away or selling anything that we don't want to pay shipping for. We're puttin' most of the furniture up on Craig's List (links to follow), so if you're local and want our furniture, we can hook you up, man! Yeeeeeeah!

FAQ: But THEN what's happening? When is Katr leaving? And Roro - aren't you doing a Fringe tour?

A: Yes, yes, that's right. Chgi and I are still leaving for Saskatoon on July 27th. And Katr will be taking off near the beginning of August.

FAQ: Do you have a place in Vancouver yet?

A: No, we don't! Know of a great one bedroom plus den, 800 square foot apartment downtown that we can rent at a reasonable price? Seriously, do you? E-mail me!

FAQ:  Does this mean that you guys are selling your beautiful two-bedroom, two-bath condo with hardwood floors throughout, located steps from the subway and gays, with a rooftop pool and ensuite laundry?

A: Why yes, yes we are! Interested? Seriously, are you? E-mail me!

FAQ: Why Vancouver?

A: Well, Katr's amazing job opportunity is the reason behind the timing, but we've been talking about moving to Vancouver for quite awhile. We love Toronto but the year-round smog and nasty summer heat combined with my crazy allergies make me feel like I'm a little bit ill all the time. Also, we're ready for an adventure! Also, Katr says we can get a dog! A basset hound! And we'll call the hound "Dibley"!

FAQ: Will you be referring to yourselves as "Dibley's mommies"?

A: GAH. No. BUT we may have shirts made up for OUR mothers with a picture of Dibley on it and a caption that reads "Dibley's Grandma". But with the high cost of living in Vancouver, we may not have the jack for comedy gifts.

FAQ: Wait a minute - aren't you the playwright-in-residence at Buddies next year? And isn't Buddies in Toronto? And while the playwright-in-residence doesn't get to actually live at the theatre, shouldn't you at least be in Toronto?

A: Well, quite. So Chgi and I finish up our tour in Vancouver in September. Then I'm coming back for a Toronto victory lap for October/November and January/February! I am looking forward to some gypsy-esque subletting/house-sitting/couch-surfing this fall and winter. I do dishes, people with couches! And I make great omelettes!

FAQ: Well, it sounds like you'll be up our ass for a few more months. But in the wake of this precipitous departure, how do I convey my good wishes to the lovely Katr?

A: That's what blogs are for! Head over to www.mynameiskate.ca and leave her a comment!

Blogging may be a little sporadic over the next couple of weeks while we pack our entire lives up and get ready to sell our home! HA ha! Then again, maybe there will be a lot of short posts with hilarious pictures of crap I find in the storage locker. History will decide.

Creampuff Hooks a Gal Up

No one sniffs out juvenile online paraphernalia like my pal Syd. Between the Cooter's Mullet Salon t-shirts and the product known as "Liquid Ass", she gives us all such a wealth of ridiculousness and crassness that I started to wonder how I would ever give back. So when I saw this photo on her blog a couple of months ago, I knew it was time, as my mother used to say, to "roll into action".

It's, you know, a dildo cozie. Reclining seductively on a purple velvet chaise. They're a Sister Clementine creation and while I knew my meagre knitting skills would not allow me to produce a creature quite as charming and strangely imperious as this pink deal above, I was up for a challenge and, more importantly, had nearly a whole ball of shiny Whorehouse Red just hanging out in the my stash. And so, with Syd in mind, I created Dildy.

 

Yeah, I know. She kinda looks like a voodoo Dildy and the red beads that make up her mouth are kinda hard to see in the pictures and she kinda looks like blind children from Ecuador knit her with their feet. Also, instead of tentacles, she is wearing a demure little skirt. But for my first attempt I feel she's not too shabby. Also, she is very silky and has a lovely sheen. Here she is with TED Dog. Their relationship? Entirely platonic. Yet they are wearing matching outfits . . .

Poor Syd is horribly, horribly sick at the moment, but when Dildy arrived, she managed to send an ecstatic message of thanks via e-mail. When I saw that the e-mail's subject line was "OMFG", my knitterly heart filled to bursting.  It's these moments that make it all worthwhile. Well, that and being able to say to my mom "Well, Mom, I gotta go! The dildo cozie I'm making for my interweb friend in Mississippi ain't gonna knit itself! Happy Birthday!"

Creampuff Learns About Astrology

Chgi turned to me in the Tim Hortons on Wednesday and said "I've been holding back. But I think it's time I told you about Mercury."

Apparently, Mercury is in retrograde and it all started Wednesday, the day our Fringe show opened. What this means, in superstitious-layperson-who-knows-little-about-astrology terms, is that we'll all be experiencing some technical difficulties FOR THE NEXT THREE WEEKS. The following is a list of things that I am blaming on Mercury:

*Chgi and I went to get some photocopying and laminating done at a copy shop that we had previously been to, where the guy assured us he could handle all of our copy and plastic coating needs. He LIED, he couldn't figure out how to use his own copy machine but wouldn't let us use it and then we had to go to fucking Kinkos.

*When I printed the program for the show at home, I somehow got the template turned around so that the front was upside down and backwards, so Chgi had to fuck around with the paper cutter and scotch tape at Kinkos to make a master copy. When we went to make this master copy, we realized that we had left the originals at the Copy Shop of Lies.

*The bulb broke on our show slide projector a couple of hours before the show, so Chgi had to beetle off to Henry's to get a new one. Cost? $32.00 Handjob? NO.

*We got to the venue and the volunteers had written "Moon Sea Crossing" on the whiteboard in our time slot. We informed them of the mistake, which they slowly corrected by putting the incorrect title on the board. "87% True: The TIES That Bind" is not the name of the show.

*Lex didn't make it to opening night.

*We designated today as a Volunteer Appreciation Show, which means that any Fringe volunteer who wanted to could see the show today for free! Yay volunteers! We appreciate you!! We sent in the form. We checked it had been received by the Volunteer Coordinator. When we got to the venue, the volunteers there had no record of the Volunteer Appreciation show. And no volunteers took advantage of our phantom offer.

*Today before the show, Chgi checked the slide projector and it was working fine. The lights go down, the play starts, Chgi goes out, turns on the projector and . . . NOTHING. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Let me tell you something; this is a new play and we're still working on it and every time it gets a little bit better, but it is TOUGH to act with a load in your shorts. We managed to improvise our way through the entire show and no one died. But - HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

*My Candy Swap package has not arrived.

*I found a dead cockroach in my toiletry kit this morning. What the . . . how the fuck did THAT get in there??

On the other hand, some really marvellous things have happened since we all bent over for Mercury.

*I got to meet the lovely Heather of life in the 'shwa, when she and her fiancé Dave left the 'Shwa and came to the opening night of the show!! We have agreed that meeting people off the internet is the new black. It was so awesome to meet them and awesome of them to come down. Next, I must meet their GIANT DOGS.

*I got a letter from Toronto Public Health telling me that I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE DYSENTERY. In your FACE, two doctors who wouldn't give me anti-biotics!!! If I had more time, I would go to Kinkos and then wallpaper your offices with my letter from Toronto Public Health! Lucky for you, I am busy dealing with Mercury.

*Lex made it to the show today AND she bought us delicious treats and was generally wonderful, as always. Thanks, Lex!

*Katr's brother Drew acted as our mule from the States and now our fridge is full of Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi. Sweet, sweet Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi.

Well, I'd better post this now, before something else happens. Take care of yourselves out there. Look out for the stars.

Creampuff Fringe Karma

Back in the day when we were keen theatah teens, my friend Padu was the most dedicated Fringer I knew. For each day of the festival, Padu would arrive at the Edmonton Fringe site at 11:00 a.m. and would spend the next 12 to 14 hours there, fueled mainly by his love of theatre and mini-donuts. His Fringe program was a work of organizational art; colour-coded schedules, alternate choices in case he didn't make the line on time, deliberate circles around the show descriptions that pleased him most. I was totally in awe.

The first year I Fringed with Padu, I could only make 7 out of 10 days of the festival, but I still saw nearly 30 shows (Padu saw close to 50). In the days before advance tickets, we would spend up to four hours in line to get tickets for Animal Farm - From Russia! or Clayton Jevne's hilarious One Man Hamlet, or the latest Stewart Lemoine delight. And then another two hours in line to get good seats. We were keen. We had stamina. We had tiny donuts.

We saw a lot of brilliant theatre. Oh, there were mishaps, such as when Padu brought his dad to see Kiss of the Spiderwoman ("Mental note - don't bring Dad to any other plays with ass-fucking.") or when our friend Romu thought the blackout in Beckett's Happy Days was an intermission, left to have a smoke and then pounded on the door throughout the second act trying to get back in, but overall, our Fringe experiences were pure. Because of our Fringe God Appeasement System.

As an offering to the Fringe gods, Padu and I instituted a tradition whereby we would deliberately pick out a show that sounded TERRIBLE, in the hopes that by seeing one really awful show on purpose, we would be rewarded by:

a) not being disappointed by any other show; and

b) having something to laugh about in line for other plays.

Yes, yes - we were mean theatah teens. The system was highly successful and provided us with many hours of amusement for years afterwards. And one Fringe God Appeasement show in particular stood out as the worst we'd ever seen. It was called Strafe.

Oh, if only I had the program description for Strafe. I remember the image in the program was a fuzzy image of a WWII plane dropping bombs but the description in the program made it clear that Strafe was just a metaphor for the sinister happenings in the play. We sat down with about 3 other people in the audience, one of whom happened to be Padu's voice teacher from theatre school.

The play began with one man (let's call him "Strafe") picking up another man (uh . . . "NotStrafe") in the park for some hot man on man action. At first, it seemed like perhaps we'd simply stumbled onto a nice gay love story. But things unraveled quickly. It turns out Strafe wasn't gay at ALL! He was just an intravenous drug user who'd been infected with HIV and he BLAMED the gays for giving him the HIV in the first place. So, naturally, he was cruising (strafing!!) the park to pick up innocent gays and then INFECT THEM.

Ha ha - WHAT??

We were speechless with horror.

Now, I must point out that in the hands of a good writer, this truly awful premise might have had a real impact. But between Strafe's crazy-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth speeches and NotStrafe's rhapsodic waxing over seeing a used condom in the park ("Then the sun hit it and the semen . . . twinkled in the sun . . . twinkle . . . twinkle."), it was merely hideous and insulting. Padu and I gripped hands so hard our nails nearly broke the skin. When the play ended (I believe NotStrafe escapes Strafe's clutches at the 11th hour and vows never to cruise the park again), Padu and I didn't know what to do with ourselves. It was like we'd been Strafed.

While the show was happening, I sneaked a couple of glances at Padu's voice teacher and noted that he too was struck dumb with awe at the awfulness of the whole exercise. Discussing it months later, Padu told me "In class - I couldn't look at him for weeks after. We'd . . . we'd been through too much."

As our opening night at the Toronto Fringe approaches, my thoughts have clearly turned to our Fringe God Appeasement system and I am thinking that perhaps it is time to resurrect it. It might mean a blessing for our own show or it might just save some of you from further Strafe-ing. If you have any particular show suggestions, feel free to pass them on. And never say I don't love you.