please pardon my potty mouth

We have a new toilet! Nice and clean and white and flushes right away--no need to hold the handle down for a full 8 seconds with this bad boy.

It's just in time too because Dean and I began our colon cleanse this morning and, not to be too graphic, I'm scared I'll be having frequent rendez-vous' with this important bathroom fixture.

I celebrated the colon-cleanse equavalent of Mardis Gras last night: for the first time in seven years I ate a HAMBURGER. Not just any hambuger, mind you, an Anth & Cheri Gallello burger as thick as my fist. Yes, it was soooo worth it.

downers and uppers

After what seemed like the absolute perfect weekend (Saturday's goodness was rounded out by a family brunch on Sunday, followed by Subeez with J&K and Aqualung at Richard's on Richards), it only seemed right that something would come along to dampen it all.

Just before the encore an unfamiliar number showed up on my mobile—the lady downstairs letting us know our toilet was leaking into hers. ugh.

So we are currently flushing with the help of an empty gallon milk jug, and mostly avoiding any activity that would require said improvisation.

While we were enjoying ou garlic mayo fries, however, I learned something new: Scooby Snacks (yes, the little kibbles those crazy hippies fed their monster-hunting dog) are in fact drugs. All those years I woke up early to watch Scooby Doo before school... I've been soooo naive.

components of a perfect day

+ Sleep in 'til 9:30 after a late night of cousin bonding and white wine

+ Walk with good looking man, in the sun

+ Latte, scone

+ Pick up UK visa, procured stress-free in 3 days, start to finish

+ Catch bus downtown, read fluff news

+ 3.5 hours at the VAG: Acting the Part, House of Oracles , and the main reason for my visit: Fred Herzog's Vancouver photography (see above).

+ Run into one of my favourite Vancouver couples

+ Five loads of laundry (okay, this part wasn't so perfect,but it IS an accomplishment to get through all your laundry on a typically bustling day in the Landmark Caesar laundry room)

+ One batch of spaghetti sauce to take to my gramps whose wife is in the hospital

+ Walk downtown as evening falls, appreciate view from Granville St. Bridge

+ Peter Bjorn and John at the Commodore - opening act Fujiya and Miyagi was also very notable

+ Walk home, knowing you get to do it all over again for Aqualung tomorrow :)

I'm in!

It seems props are due to the British High Commission in Ottawa - I sent my VISA application on Tuesday and it got approved today!

I am officially legal to work in the UK. It's a liberating feeling in fact.

Major Grey

Context is everything. At an Indian restaurant, for example, the subject line of this post is a very good thing (particularly at a little spot in Kirkland to which Harms once brought me). On my head, however it's nothing but trouble.

About three years ago I found my first grey hair, still only an inch or two long, and in spite of friends' warnings that it would grow back in multiples, I plucked it. Six months later it was back, and so the cycle continued. I hadn't seen the little bugger in quite some time when it showed up in the office bathroom last week. And I paid it its due punishment (extermination).

Then, two days later while leaning my head on Dean's shoulder, he claimed that he spotted one. I said it couldn't be, I only have one grey hair and I just removed it! But sure enough, he plucked out the proof.

So imagine my dismay, when yesterday I find YET ANOTHER grey strand sneering in my face. This one three inches long. Either my single grey hair has super powers, or I have officially crossed into granny territory.

I know, I know. Millions of women my age color their hair, but I LIKE my hair color and I'm not sure I'm willing to part with it just yet. And so the plucking will continue.

back on the bus, reflecting on etiquette

I'm back to working full time — a five week stint at BC Hydro in Burnaby. It's a mindless job, but a union wage, so who can complain? In the evenings I'm trying to keep up with a couple of paid writing projects, but the ones i really am excited about (the unpaid ones), those are being put on hold.

On the topic of money and in light of the current $1.25/litre gas scandal, I recently did some calculations:

tank of gas/week $60x5 = $300
parking/day $3x25 = $75
TOTAL: $375 (ie. half a week's pay for a month of transportation and that's not even including insurance, which Dean pays for)

Meanwhile, a 2 zone monthly bus pass is $95. Unlimited travel for under a hundred bucks and it's a tax write off! The smarter option is clear.

So I was sitting on the skytrain yesterday and a girl boards the car—a typical Vancouver girl: black Lulu pants, freshly darkened hair accentuated by her salon tan, high pony and headband. Harmless enough. She sits beside me and in a manner of seconds I feel her leg pressed up against mine. On a busy day, this is overlooked, but in a half empty car it made me uncomfortable.

I shift my legs closer together.

Moments later, her bony knee has inched its way over to mine again.

I further close the space between my own legs and angle them the opposite direction, but sure enough she further splays hers!

Surely this is violating some sort of unwritten transit code? Can I have some support here? Even big jock guys usually have the decency to keep their limbs out of your leg space.

So what did I do? I pushed back. Bit by bit I widened my own stature, far beyond what is normal or comfortable for me, but just until those stretch-cotton clad legs were back in their alotted space and their owner was perplexed. I felt like a passive aggressive yet smug school child.

She gave me a dirty look and got off the train at the next stop. I guess I had made myself clear ;)