It was a busy weekend, but here's a little review of this weekend's 10th anniversary tryst at the Shangri-La Hotel:
It was a busy weekend, but here's a little review of this weekend's 10th anniversary tryst at the Shangri-La Hotel:
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I confess, I don't get an annual flu shot. Because I know that whenever I get a vaccine, my dog develops autism.
But this year, Katr and I both have friends and colleagues who have come down HAAAAAAAAAAARD with the flu. Plus, last Christmas, Katr, Drtr and I were all sick as hell.
Like, we made a full turkey dinner with all the trimmings because the turkey was fresh and we had no room to freeze it, but it took us two entire days to make the meal because we kept having to lie down and cry. And then none of us could taste it. It was my Vietnam. So anyway, we're all getting the flu shot.
The last time Katr and I went to get flu shots, they were free and I just assumed that they were free for anyone with a BC Health card. But this is not so!
There are lots of ways that you can qualify for a free flu shot, but we got our free flu shots because we're fat! This is probably the first time being fat has saved us money.
Being 'Murican, Drtr doesn't have a health card, so I asked the pharmacist today at the Shoppers Drug Mart how much it would cost for Drtr to have the shot.
Pharmacist: "For him, the flu shot is $22! But it would be free for YOU, because...(oh shit oh shit...she's so fat but I can't say fat, don't say fat) you...(what do I SAY? why is she here again? medication! she's on medication! I'm filling her prescription right now! YESSSSSSSS) are on this medication! (WHEW)"
Oh, tiny pharmacist.
Anyway, so this is my public service announcement about flu shots. They're free if you're fat and if you're not, they're only $22 at Shoppers Drug Mart. PSA - COMPLETE.
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If you don't know who Lindy West is, educate yourself. She is amazing and I love her.
She writes about a lot of political things and personal things, but I think my favourite headline of hers was My wedding was perfect - and I was fat as hell the whole time.
With all the crazy shit going on in the world right now, there are a lot of people with a lot of opinions and they just won't shut up. But as I said to Katr just yesterday morning, "I am SO TIRED of listening to people OPINE about things. ENOUGH with the OPINING. Except for Lindy West, I'd listen to her opine about anything."
Waaaay back in June of 2016, Lindy West came to Vancouver (!!!) to promote her book Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman and I was beside myself with glee.
I got two tickets to the reading because my friend Elai said she was interested in coming, not so much because she was a Lindy West fangrrrl, but because Lindy was doing a reading, a talkback AND a signing, and Elai is friends with the Globe and Mail's Marsha Lederman, who was moderating the talkback.
Elai: "Marsha's so nice. We can say hi to her after - maybe she'll introduce you to Lindy West!"
Me: ALL THE SCREAMS EVER.
A couple of weeks before the event, Elai texted with some bad news. She couldn't come to the reading, because her husband Doai's niece was "graduating from high school" or some bullshit milestone like that.
Me: But...isn't she going to graduate again from university in a few years anyway? Lindy West is only here one night!! And you know Marsha! Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!
Elai: Sorry!!
Me: quiet weeping
So I ended up going to the reading solo. It was TOTALLY packed and Lindy was hilarious and real and lovely and Elai's supposed "friend" Marsha was an excellent moderator and asked great questions. Afterwards, I bought two copies of the book and stood in line to get them signed.
I'm not going to lie. I got a little emotional. I might have had a little cry. "This must be how girls felt when they were meeting the Beatles," I thought to myself, as I dabbed at my dewy eyes with a bar napkin, "but Lindy West has WAAAAAY better hair."
To speed things along, one of the organizers of the event handed out post-it notes and pencils. You were supposed to just write your name out for Lindy West to copy into your book, so she wouldn't have to be all "How's it spelled? Got it. 'To Roko, my biggest fern' ". It was a long line, so I had some time to compose the bon mots I hoped Lindy West would agree to write into her book.
I got up to the front. It was my turn. I was no longer crying but my eye was twitching.
Me: "I'm so nervous!"
Lindy West: "You don't need to be nervous! I'm just a regular lady."
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Lindy West was very kind. She signed my books as requested and laughed gamely at my nervous jokes. It was by far the loveliest fangrrrl experience I've ever had. Thank you, Lindy West, for living up to my completely unrealistic expectations.
Here is how Lindy West sign my & Kate's book:
As I mentioned, I bought a second book and that one was for Elai. I waited nearly six months before I gave it to her for Christmas.
Aaaaaand...SCENE.
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Katr and I both got Jawbone Up bands a few years ago as a fun way to keep track of steps and sleep. And it was fun for awhile. But then all of our friends also got them and we became "friends" on the app with our Up band friends. I suppose the social aspect of these fitness trackers are meant to encourage healthy competition but I found myself mainly feeling hatred for everybody. Then I left my Up band at home when we went to Mexico one year and when I came home, it wouldn't recharge and I thought "Great!" and didn't get a new one.
Then last year we got the puppy and suddenly I was walking A LOT more than I did with non-walking Emmy, the non-wonder dog and I thought that since I was walking ANYWAY, I wanted to know how MUCH I was walking, just for my own amusement. So I ordered a FitBit One. This time, I kept my information allll to myself and it gives me a little thrill every day, especially on the days when I reach or exceed that 10,000 step goal.
Last week, I was sick and Drtr did the lion's share of the dog walking, so my daily step average was in the 4,000 range. But on Friday I was back out on pei patrol with Effie and we ran a lot of errands and I got 10,438 steps.
On Saturday, we took Effie to the park and ran a lot of errands and I set up my village and got 10,322 steps.
Then, on Sunday, I walked Effie around the block once, was driven to dim sum, then sat at my computer and bragged about setting up my village and I got...11,252 steps.
Wait so...what?
Obviously, the FitBit is misreporting. Probably just a technical glitch. But then this morning, I woke up and my left lower eyelid was puffy and bruised-feeling, like someone punched me in the face and I'm starting to wonder if maybe I took a long walk and got into a fight IN MY SLEEP.
Aaaaaaaaand scene.
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I was chatting with my beloved brother-in-law Drtr about memorable Thanksgivings and I realized that this year was the 20th anniversary of my favourite non-traditional Thanksgiving, which I spent with my BFF Padu in Toronto in 1996. Obviously, it was Canadian Thanksgiving but whatever, same diff.
It was my last year of university. My roommates has gone home for the weekend and Padu had trained in from Montreal. We were set for a magical celebration.
To kick off the day, we went to see a matinee of a play called Gulag by Robin Fulford. You can tell from the title that it's a cheery little number. Gulag is the sequel/companion piece to Robin Fulford's earlier play, Steel Kiss, which is based on the true story of a group of four teenagers who beat a gay man to death in Toronto's High Park and the sensationalistic trial that followed. We'd seen Steel Kiss at the Fringe in Edmonton a few years before and Padu was OBSESSED with it, probably because it's a really excellent and very compelling play. Gulag is about what follows - it takes place four years later, and we see the teen boys time in prison and a little bit about their lives once they're released. Spoiler alert - things aren't going well and it's, as the French say, un petit peu le downer.
After seeing some prison rape and hopelessness, we went to Wendy's for turkey burgers, because Thanksgiving.
Then it was movie time! Definitely important to see something light and fluffy after the pathos of Gulag, so of course we chose to see David Cronenberg's film Crash.
The Crash I am talking about is not the Oscar-winning movie about horrible racism and guns and cultural misunderstanding and car accidents. David Cronenberg's Crash is about people who get horny over car crashes.
For real.
Here is the trailer:
WHY DID WE SEE THIS MOVIE?? Oh god, it was so terrible. Maybe that's why we saw it. I just remember this one moment where Rosanna Arquette bends over and reveals a giant, vulva-like scar on the back of her leg and we're both like "OMG DON'T FUCK THE WOUND!" and the film did not oblige us.
UPSETTING.
After two hours of watching slightly bloody James Spader boning people in wrecked cars because it's the only way he could feel alive, it was obviously time for some shopping, so Padu and I hit the giant HMV store on Yonge St., where he LOST HIS SHIT because the original 1980s sci fi series "V" was on sale, so he bought it.
Padu: We should go back to your apartment and watch 6 hours of V!!!
Roro: Ha ha.
And then we went back to my apartment and watched SIX HOURS OF V and I will never be able to get this image out of my head:
And now, neither will you!
Thanks, Padu.
Anyway, I wish all of my American friends a happy, delicious, car-crash-sex-fetish free Thanksgiving.
Posted at 05:57 PM in Creampuff Rants & Recs, Rock Out With Your Cock Out | Permalink | Comments (4)
Every Friday since probably July, Katr looks wistfully around the office, assiduously avoids eyeing my own very cluttered desk, and says:
"Maybe we'll do some filing this weekend."
And I nod and say:
"Maybe."
What I don't add is "And maybe elves will do it because I will be knitting, mainlining Chicago Style popcorn and watching Gilmore Girls."
But today I woke up and realized that I had reached my desk clutter limit. EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKED UP right now and the last thing one needs is to feel furious about clutter. There are SO MANY OTHER THINGS to feel fucking furious about AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (quiet weeping and refusing to link to anything).
Anyway, so I decided that nothing would make me feel like more of an in-control rock star than cleaning up my desk on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Here is the before. Look at this shit. Where even IS my desk? And what the fuck is the point of having art on the window sill if I can't fucking see it???
And here is the after! Ahhhhh. So much better.
I'm pretty jazzed about this because, as you may have noticed on your calendar, it is drawing near to VILLAGE TIME chez Roro and Katr OMG SO EXCITED FOR MY VILLAGE THIS YEAR YOU GUYS!!! I hear the mayor is a big fat lesbian. And I have a suspicion that the tiny village of Wintersea may be expanding...
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I'm embarrassed to admit this, but we moved here in 2006 and have not had a library card until about a month ago.
I KNOW.
Moreover, I still don't know offhand where the nearest Vancouver Public Library branch is...aside from the one on our corner, of course. I think there's one somewhere on Commercial? I don't know, whatever, I never go there.
Katr's been wanting to get a library card for YEARS now, partly because she's into libraries but also because the Vancouver Public Library lends ebooks that we can read on our Kobos. So when the stars aligned and we were going to be running errands near a library with a parking lot, I popped in to get a card.
Katr: But I want to come in and get my own card.
Me: Why? You can just use mine.
Katr (reluctantly): Okay.
Getting a card was super easy and free and as soon as I had it, Katr went online to request a few books. Fun!
A few weeks later, one of Katr's books was in! So, once again while we were out running errands, I popped in to pick up Katr's book while she went in to get her own card.
Since it was my first time picking up a book on hold, I asked the nice lady librarian where I should look for it. She very kindly took me over to the shelf and helped me locate my last name, then whipped the book off the shelf and said "Is this it?"
Katr had failed to mention that the book she had checked out using my card was called THE JET SEX and it looked like this:
Jet Sex.
It kind of reminded me of the time my friend Amy told me I really needed to request a little book I'd never heard of called Tipping the Velvet and when I went to pick it up from the library, the cover looked like this:
Thanks for the T&A, Amy. I blushed all the way home.
Anyway, back to Jet Sex. The library held it out expectantly. And I took it.
Me: Well, that's my name right there isn't it, ha ha. So...I guess that's my book. The Jet Sex. With that sort of spread-eagled stewardess on the cover. Which I totally knew about because I requested it.
Library: Great. Let's get you checked out.
Library technology has evolved now to where I don't even need to talk to the librarian anymore, apparently - using this machine, I could have checked my book out and been on my way. This would have been handy to know if I was checking out a book called The Jet Sex and felt embarrassed about that. Since it was my first time, the library said she'd show me how to use it.
Apparently, the machine was a little finicky and would not read the book. The librarian kept slamming The Jet Sex down on this machine like it was 50 Shades of Gray. "I don't get it," she said, as she really started to work up a sweat giving it rough to my book, "it usually wants you to bang it hard but it's...not....WORKING."
At this point, the quiet male librarian glided over.
Lady Librarian (showing Jet Sex no mercy): Carl, I can't get this to scan.
Carl: Well, you have to be gentle with it. Sliiiide it in. Here, I'll show you.
Carl slid it in. The book beeped and the receipt printed as Lady Librarian and I looked on.
Lady Librarian: I usually have to be quite rough with it.
Carl: Sometimes you need a slow hand.
Me: It likes a lover with an easy touch.
Awkward silence.
Me: Okay then, thanks!
In related news, Katr now has her own library card, which she wanted in the first place. Well played, Katr. Well played. You are now free to request Ultimate Porno - so long as you pick it up yourself.
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I was SO sure I'd have good blog stories for this week, but none of the three SUPER fascinating and compelling personal sagas I'm involved with right now has come to a satisfying conclusion and I hate to tell stories that have no endings. That's too much like LIFE! And we all know that my blog is ART.
Fortunately, there are lots of super awesome things to talk about today. It's a great day for marriage equality, what with DOMA and Prop 8 being overturned (and also a great day for ladies with lady parts, what with Wendy Davis filibustering for reproductive rights in Texas), so I really just wanted to post this, which I totally stole from Kimli on Facebook.
YEEEAAAAAAAAAH! Suck it, DOMA and Prop 8! Gay all up in your face! Yay love!
Posted at 10:16 AM in Rock Out With Your Cock Out | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Can't blog. Too busy hitting "refresh" on the iTunes store, hoping this will be released a few hours early. ZOMG.
Hashtag: TakeMyMoney.
Posted at 02:49 PM in Rock Out With Your Cock Out | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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