I Love Stuff Too Sometimes...

Okay, that was too much hate all in one post even for me so let me take another moment (my ass is numb anyway) to tell you a little something about a place I love. A magical place called Youbou. It's pronounced you-bo (like me and YOU and damn BO duke is hot! - I also love the Dukes of Hazzard by the way) which I now know for sure thanks to my extra swank friend who asked some guy in the mens washroom (after a few beers) just how to pronounce it. Good job senor. I personally prefer my way of saying it which is more like yeow-bow. As in YEOW-BOW. That's pretty much all I've got. But if you say really loudly and emphatically it's pretty sweet. Try it out. You'll like it. If I'd had a few more beers I might've tried to convert some Youbounians to my way of thinking but sadly it just wasn't to be. That time anyway. So yeah. I love Youbou which as far as I can remember consists of 2 liquor stores, a canadian flag bear, a portable tent (as opposed to all of those permanent tents - I'm such a knob) with a sign that said "we sell ice here" and a pub which was obviously my favourite part.

The pub was great. They played AC-DC. A lot. And at one point a middle aged woman got up and yelled, "Who won the roast? Was it you?! You? It was you?! You don't even live here! You're not a resident!" Luckily the roast winner quickly explained that she did live there now and would love to have everybody over for dinner to eat the roast before someone got hurt. It was a touching scene. Brought a tear to my eye. Who won the roast indeed. It was also fabulous because they had Keith's beer on tap. And god knows I love a cold pint of Keiths. And then we played pool on a table that was so close to the wall that it was awesome. I don't know anything about angles or whatnot but sometimes the stick thingy had to point almost straight up into the air because the wall was right there. It was cool. I won. And then I won again. And then I lost. And then I lost again. And then I won. But then I lost again. And again. But in between the winning and the losing and the whatnot I hopped up and down alot (when I didn't make the shot) and clapped my hands and did a little dance alot (when I did make the shot) and occasionally pretended my stick thingy was a microphone. All in all it was a good night. Unfortunately I have no pictures to illustrate my good night because I forgot my camera and SOMEONE didn't take any. Grrr. Whatever. I still have my memories.

Ooo, and then we stopped on the side of the road so I could look at the stars because it was the middle of nowhere and the stars are always better in the middle of nowhere. It was sweet. So there you are. I'm not completely filled with hate. I'm filled with hate and happy memories of Youbou (yeow-bow).

So Full of Hate...

It's true (I say that alot) but it seems that today (and everyday for the last week with the exception of a lovely evening spent in Youbou) I've been filled to the brim with hot, steaming hate. So I've decided to compile a list of the things I hate this week in hope of not being so damn full of hate anymore. Like lancing a boil. Which I've never actually done but I hear it's quite a relieving kind of thing. We'll see.

Things That I Hate:

Girls with so much makeup on that it looks like a mask (orangey line around the base of the face and that weird textur-y thing that makes their faces look like they're covered in some kind of really thin crepe paper - ick).

Men who look obsessively at your boobs while talking.

Stinky old men who call me honey (as in "bring me some more coffee honey" - are they insane? can they not sense the impending ass kicking?).

Big stupid ass-muppets who make really ridiculously stupid jokes/comments non-stop all day on one of the busiest workdays ever and then get pissy when I don't laugh (and then ask them to please not talk to me for the rest of the day because I'm too tired to pretend to care).

Pedestrians (when I'm driving).

Drivers (when I'm pedestrianing :-)).

My hair (it's doing this weird flippy thing on one side and hanging completely flat on the other and then there's a nice layer of frizz on top - it's hot).

People at work who stand around talking shit while everybody around them is running around like crazy people trying to just get to the point where we're not praying for the hot water tap thingy to fall over, scalding them just enough so that they have to flee the building immediately leaving their tables to wallow in their own annoyingness.

Customers who can't seem to find a single thing they actually want on the menu and so decide to make up their own damn meal like so..."I don't see what I want here so I'm just going to tell you and you can figure it out okay? Okay, so I want a cheeseburger but I also want bacon, but no mushrooms and no tomato or onion but I do want lettuce and no pickles but mayo only on the side and no relish and no hot dogs or anything like that and ketchup. And I'd like a holladaise sauce on the side. Can you do that?"

Customers who don't even read the menu at all and act surprised that we actually have a meal that is exactly what they want. "Okay, I want 2 eggs, wheat toast (I also hate people who call brown or whole wheat toast "wheat toast" all toast has wheat people, stop being so lazy and just say whole wheat for the love of god) bakon, and hash browns." Me: "Sure, so the bakon and eggs platter then?" Assmonkey: "Oh, you have bakon and eggs? Do I get hashbrowns and toast with that?" Me: "No, not really. I'm just fucking with you. We're actually the only breakfast restaurant in the universe that doesn't have a bakon and eggs breakfast you moron."

People who look at me carrying the tray laden with a million frickin' glasses of water going to the table next to them and say "Do you think I could get that coffee now?" to which I reply, "Sure, you bet. I'll just pluck the pot right out of my ass with my super secret (but handy) third arm and get that right to you, you dumbfuck."

The old guy yesterday who said, "I'd like a coffee, an apple juice and a water, do you think you can handle that?" To which I actually did say, "I don't know, I'm actually not very smart but I'll give it a shot."

People who respond to "how are you today?" with "coffee."

Falling asleep while I'm driving. I am indeed half asleep while driving home alarmingly often and the other day I did actually fall asleep briefly and woke up only when my car drifted over one of those reflector thingys on the side of the road (right beside the concrete barrier separating one side of the highway from the other). It was great.

Duncan. Enough said about that one.

Skinny bitches. I know. I'm old and bitter and whatnot but hey, I'm at one with that.

My ass (and all the other fat bits attached to it). That sort of goes with the previous one but I didn't want you to think my hate is all outwardly focussed. Does focussed really have 2 "s"es? I don't think it really does. I hate not being able to spell anymore. I used to be able to spell. It was either all those drugs I did in the 90s or living in Japan that destroyed my spelling abilities. Now I'll never be a child-prodigy spelling bee champ. Damn. Hopes and dreams dashed again. I also hate that.

Well, I think I may have run out of things to hate for the time being. Either that or I'm just really tired of sitting on the floor of my parent's spare room (I hate not having the internet at my place) so now I'm going to go home where I will proceed to lay on the floor praying for death so I don't have to get up a 5 o'clock in the fucking morning to go to work tomorrow where I will be faced with dozens upon dozens of the aforementioned things that I hate all over again. Bah!

I was sure that I had something new and/or exciting to post (I thought of something in the car on the way home and raced all the way here to post it only to discover that it's gone!) but I was mistaken. So I thought to myself, whatever! I'll post anyway. But now I have nothing to say so I'm just going to say "hi!" and call it a day. I'm sure I'll remember in a bit what it was. Of course if I'm more than a foot away from the computer I'll no doubt forget it again before I can get it down. Bah!

How Do I Hate Rogers...Let Me Count the Ways

I hate rogers wireless. Yep. Hate them. They suck ass. It's true. So I'm driving along in my car with my little doglet and I think to myself, "Self, you should call your Uncle Barry and see if he wants to go for dinner sometime this week" so I pick up my handy cell phone and dial said uncle's number and what do I hear? The dulcet tones of my darling uncle's voice? Nope, no way. Instead I hear the super happy rogers wireless man-whore requesting me to say or enter the last 3 digets of my postal code for "my security." Grrr. Now, I have a limit on my cell phone which is good. But what isn't so good is that instead of alerting me as I approach my limit (as they are supposed to) they instead sat with their collective thumbs up their collective bums and cheerily ignored my steady limit approach until...voila! Which in itself isn't really all that big a deal. I'm not completely insane. I have some sense of perspective. Not much granted, but some. So I enter my postal code. Well, actually I had to go home and look it up because I can't actually remember my own postal code because I'm a tad retarded but that's neither here nor there. :-) And I go through their stupid customer service menu with that stupid aggressively cheerful rogers voice guy (cheerful people make my ass twitch - especially when they're cheerfully inconveniencing me!) and I select the appropriate option only to be redirected once again to another ridiculously cheerful (this time female) voice advising me that the customer service office is closed and I should call back during regular hours. Of course they don't actually mention what those hours might be but whatever. I can get over that. The thing that really chaps my hide (I love that expression - chaps my hide - it's just got a nice ring to it) is that now I can't use my damn phone until I call them during their damn business hours, whatever they may be. Grrrrr! Ass-sucking ass-muppets!!! If I weren't completely locked into a contract with them for the rest of my natural life I'd show them! I'd get a new phone! Yeah. That's what I'd do. But as it is, I'll call their stupid "customer service" office and complain and they'll tell me in their ridiculously cheerful voices to just shut up and swaller what they gives me ter swaller. Ewww. I think I just grossed myself out there. Okay bye!

Ahhh...How I Miss the Soccer Moms

Because you know what? I've found something worse. It's true. Hard to believe I know...but yes. Worse than the choking on their own bitterness and supressed rage suburbanites. It's the sad, twitchy little 40 something year old man, living at home in Mommy's basement, basking in the cold, cold glow of his gigantic computer screen as he talks dirty to some 19 year old sexpot in a bikini who is not Lolita2000 at all but sad, balding Henry who is in turn sitting in his basement basking in the glow of his computer screen as he...you get the picture. Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the twitchy man/boy glued to his computer if that's where he stays. Nope, nothing at all. To each his own I say. But when he creeps his way out of his hole, his little mole eyes blinking in the unaccustomed glare of daylight and scurries his pouchy ass into a booth in my restaurant and proceeds to talk to my tits (I know they're compelling but come on...they're not tractor beams) while asking me the same question over and over again with marginally different phrasing each time then I have a problem. The problem being that society has deemed it inappropriate for me to stab him in his beady little eye with my pen. Yep. A problem indeed. Actually, in retrospect it's kind of funny. He started out just a little creepy with his high waisted khaki pants (I seem to be detecting a pattern here...do all assholes wear khaki - like all women with no upper lips are mean?), pastel shirt and shifty eyes. A little creepy. But then as we talked (not my choice let me tell you) his eyes started to wander...just a little twitch at first. A quick, guilty glance down and then back to the face! Acceptable. Not my favourite thing to do on a sunny summer day but I can dig it. We wear tight shirts and I have large boobs. I'm not entirely unsympathetic. But as the...conversation? experience? encounter? what the hell do you call it anyway? continued (and by continued I mean dragged) on the glances got a little longer and a little less guilty until finally the contact was continuous and unblinking even, at which point I chose to take the high road and walk away (the low road being a swift kick to the balls, assuming his mother doesn't keep them at home in a jar on her mantlepiece). I mean honestly. I had to go home and have a really long, really hot shower just to feel clean again and all he left me for a tip was $1.60. What's up with that? And I'm done.

And One More Thing...

I've been told recently by one of my all time favourite people that I sound really sad lately (especially with the Wedding Crashers post). But I'm not. I swear. I've actually been feeling really good these days by and large. I have my moments it's true (which unfortunately said friend seems to have the dubious privlege of being around for in his capacity as most excellent fancy-pants man in the universe :-)) but overall I'm pretty good. I'm not a fan of the divorce thing it's true. It threw for a pretty big loop but things seem to be coming together for me lately and the whole ennui/boredom thing is something of my own creation. I am moving forward and I am enjoying the direction my life seems to be heading...sometimes I just have these days where I see a little more of the cloud and a little less of the silver lining. You know what I'm saying? And to be honest, the past month has actually been pretty damn awesome (yes, I said AWESOME senor) for the most part what with all the movie watching (have you seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Because if you haven't you should!), beer drinking (have you been to the Phoenix Station Pub? Because if haven't you really shouldn't because it's my pub damn you! I don't want any of you coming around and classing it up!), pool playing (um, nothing to say here except hands off my balls!) and the whatnot (who doesn't love a little whatnot?). Did I mention the sushi munching? Or the martini drinking? Or the joy of being a passenger in my own car? No? Well consider it mentioned. So my lovelies, while it may seem that I spend all my time whining and spreading the sad all over the internet it's actually been, in the words of my fabulous psychic tea leaf reader "not a bad summer at all." :-)

While I'm Here...

I just wanted to apologise to all of you who I've been neglecting for the past little while. Okay, long while. I've not been so good with the emailing these days what with the lack of internet at home and the whatnot. :-) But here's a nice picture taken by my fabulous friend, Senor Hotpants. He knows who he is. Maybe you know who he is too! Anyway, it's my favourite spot at the end of the dock in Cowichan Bay. If you look very closely you can sort of see me off to the side hanging out on my bench. Because it is MY bench. Make no mistake about that. :-)

Kisses, Ange.

Oh For the Love of God!

Okay, so here's what I don't like. I don't like fake-n-baking, mini-van driving, hair teasing, blue eye shadow wearing, thin-lipped, coffee guzzling, cheap-ass tipping, sitting around whining about the glory days of high school soccer moms. They really pick my ass. They especially pick my ass when they happen to be sitting with their teased hair and their fake tans in my section in my restaurant taking up my time and wasting my precious oxygen with their obnoxious, inane chatter and overwhelmingly annoying rudeness.

Bitches Scene 1:

Me: "How are you today?' (Like I really had to ask, I could see their bad frosted hair and their sour, pinched faces)
Bitch #3: "Coffee!"
Me: "Well alright then. Can I get anybody anything else to drink?" (You dumb bitches)
Bitch #1: "Tea"
Me: "What kind of tea would you like?"
Bitch #1: "Hot tea." (said with snotty bitch-ass tone that translates to "please slap me because I really need it" in Angenese)
Me: "So regular tea then?" (because I like to be deliberately obtuse when dealing with bitches)
Bitch #1: "HOT...TEA" (meaning "please, please stab me in the eye and put me out of my misery")
Me: "Okaaay. And for you?"
Not Such a Bitch #3: "A small glass of milk."
Me: "Sure! And for you?"
Bitch #4: "Um, COFFEE." (said in a snarky tone as if to imply that I should've used my psychic waitressing powers to ascertain what she wanted without her actually having to tell me)
Me: "You bet. I'll be right back with that." (super cheerful tone activated which to the trained ear indicates that I'm about to grant all of their eye-stabbing wishes in a frenzy of super fast stabbing action).

Bitches Scene 2:

Me: "Sorry to interrupt (your pathetic bitch-fest)...are you ready to order or do you need a couple of minutes?" (you horrible crusty bitches)
Bitch #1: "(insert big theatrical sigh here) So you know your chocolate strawberry...THING?" (being too stupid to read the menu sitting right in front of her with the retard proof pronunciation and explanation in big bold letters across the top)
Me: "The chocolate strawberry PANNEKOEK? Yea..." (it's pronounced pan-na-kook just in case you were wondering)
Bitch #1: "Well, I don't WANT that. I WANT the banana strawberry but I WANT CHOCOLATE with it. Can you DO that?" (because her big suburban ass wasn't quite wide enough to properly fill out her cheap khaki capris I suppose)
Me: "Yeah sure. I can add chocolate to that, no problem."
Bitch #1: "Yeah but will it COST me like 17 BUCKS?" (because I'm a dumb bitch and need all my money to keep me in blue eye-liner and hair frosting)
Me: "Nooo...I don't think so...I think it's about a dollar extra but I can double check that for you if you'd like." (again with the deliberate, wide-eyed obtuse-ness, very effective when dealing with bitches - the key is to blink alot and look very confused)
Bitch "1: "NO. Money's NOT an issue. I just WONDERED because it's ALREADY so expensive. We were REALLY surprised." (because we're used to bellying up to the trough at the house of pancakes "all you can shovel for $4.99" buffet).

And I'm going to stop there because it's freaking me out that I can still remember even this much of the conversation and I'm having a big ol' craving for a yummy chai latte (it soothes my savage inner beast that still craves the eye stabbing) that must be satisfied! But you get the gist. People suck. But middle aged soccer moms with fat asses, fake tans, ugly children, and bellies full of unfulfilled dreams suck the most.

Lalalalalalala. La!

Last night I watched the Wedding Crashers. It was funny. I dug it. But for some reason it left me feeling a bit...not sad and not wiggy but not far from it. Wig-esque maybe. It was really funny and I laughed pretty much the whole way through in my louder than really appropriate for the theatre laugh which was good but it was a romantic comedy about weddings and when viewed from the perspective of a woman on the verge of divorce, living in Duncan with not much in the way of romance on the horizon it was just a little depressing. But not really depressing. You know I think I used to be better at describing things. I guess it just made me think a bit too much about my life and what I want it to be and what it actually is and...yep. So it put me in an odd mood. Not sad, not wiggy, not depressed but a little too introspective to be fun. Bah! No more romantic comedies for me! All action all the time. That's my new motto. Which sounds kind of dirty now that I think about it. Sweet. And now I have to say just how much I love Vince Vaughn and Luke Wilson (shut up senor!)together with the banter and the whatnot. There's sort of an easy chemistry to them that makes it seem as though they really are friends. I like that kind of mellow familiarity. Luke Wilson seems to have that in most of his movies now that I think about it. I may have to go home and watch the Royal Tenenbaums and Zoolander again.

What else is new? Nothing much really. I'm feeling a bit like I'm in some sort of suspended animation or limbo or something. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting to find out if I have a class to teach in the fall, waiting to find a grad school (okay, I'm actually actively looking for a grad school but it still feels like waiting somehow), waiting to find the meaning of life (whatever, I already know the meaning of life but I'm so not telling!) waiting to lose the last of my ass (shut up! 35lbs down and only about 100 left to go - okay, more like 50 or 60 but it's my blog and I can exaggerate if I want to! :-)). I'm feeling as though I live such a passive life all of the sudden. Like I want all these different things but I lack the drive or the balls (both figuratively and literally) to go out and get them. Like I'm waiting for the stars to align and the zodiac to be working in my favour and my magic eight ball to tell me all signs point to yes before I can actually do anything. But what exactly is it that I want to do you might ask? I'm not sure. I'm still waiting to find out.

But at least I have a plan for today. Wash my hair (there's a spider on the shower curtain that I'm sure wants revenge for the death of it's ridiculously over sized friend last night so washing my hair in the sink it is!), finish the glass trim in my friend's bathroom, thai food for lunch (is there any better food? God I miss Tokyo and the Mango Tree thai buffet in the Marunouchi Building - Moody, you need to go there and take pictures of everything for me! Including the designer housewives lunching on their husband's credit cards with their piles of shopping bags around them - I so miss the ostentatiousness of it all) and then back to lovely Duncan with the doglet for an evening of movies on my tiny, tiny dvd player and letting the landlord in to fix the leak in my bathroom that I didn't even know was there. And maybe a quick run now that my gimpy leg is completely normal again. It's all glamour all the time for this girl! And then sleep. Sleep is good.

Reading over this post I realise that I'm giving the impression that I'm not very happy right now and that's a little misleading. I'm not unhappy. I think that maybe I'm just a little bored. I need some excitement. I need to feel that I'm moving forward and not just loitering around my life waiting to be told to move on by some metaphorical security guard. I need my life to be a bit less like Bridget Jones Diary and more like one of those bodice ripping romance novels set on the high seas. Arrrrgh! Shiver me timbers and whatnot. At least for a little while anyway. I really have no idea what I'm talking about. Could you tell? My feet are getting itchy and I'm having the urge to wander. I just don't have enough to keep me happily anchored here but I have too much to be completely weightless. And so I float. Tethered to my little life like a balloon on a string. I'm mixing my metaphors here but I couldn't think of anything more water based without using the word buoy which I just don't like. Anyway, I'm off to battle the shower curtain lurking spider for possession of the shampoo (I'm pretty sure if I looked close enough there'd be a tiny spider dagger clenched in it's tiny spider grin and it'd be muttering away in it's tiny spider voice "my name is...you killed my father, now you must prepare to die") so I can get on with my day. Damn that spider! I shall overcome! Victory will be mine!

Yes. I am aware that I am a total dork. And I'm comfortable with that.