Mission Hill Vineyard

On an afternoon off, we visited the Mission Hill Winery in Westbank...

1. Me, looking dreamily off into the distance, thinking about all the wine I want to buy..

2. My perfect partner.

3. Hollie and I in the vines.. it kinda looks like a wedding photo..

4. "What are the boys doing.."..... "Oh no, one is taking a picture!"

5. They're looking at the piano that's signed by Bono, Elton John and other.. ahem "greats".. I'm posing under the 1.25 million dollarish Marc Chagall painting that hangs unframed in their tasting gallery..

The Conversation that Just Happened

Andrea- Shit, don't step on all my stuff.
Jared - Then where else am I going to step?
Andrea - (silence, looks at her room that still isn't unpacked, and you can't see the floor for all the clothes.)
Andrea - (silence)
Andrea - Well, at least take your shoes off.
Jared - Eew.

Back to camping

Going out of the city for a little while, camping for the next 2 days. Could be worse.

Better-ish

Ok, better. I went and painted mugs with Jared for our social event tonight, then did a little retail therapy with Ian. Which may have also involved a little chocolate covered banana therapy.. Came home and joined half our crew at the bar for drinks and a laugh. Yeah.. Better.

(Jared would like to point out that he is NOT three.. he just doesn't have very strong mug painting skills. I'll post pictures after they're glazed and fired.)

Beer. It Helps. Even when it's in cheese.

Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without J. He basically kept me from crying all day yesterday with these stupid facebook messages and funny faces from across the room. Then he held me down and tickled my feet, dressed me up like a hood rat and marched me to the liquor store, bought me beer, made me nachos with Amber Ale Cheddar, let me win at Mario Cart and let me cry like a baby at 300. And then let me wake him up at 4 in the morning when my nightmares were so bad that I had to turn on all the lights in the house and hide in his armpit. And then told me he was awake anyways.

Painfully Addicted

I don't want to say how long I watched this for..
Just a few more seconds..
One more set..
Well.. Maybe another..

Black Out

Well the power is out, Jared is out with Efa, my battery on my computer is almost out.. and I'm so exhausted that I think it would suffice to say that I'm almost out.

For some reason, that sadness is creeping again. Perhaps explaining my pathetic lack of a)blogging b)personal hygiene and c) caring about a and b. *chuckle* I always feel like.. you know when a pie starts to get dry and the filling starts to shrink and peel away from the crust? *laugh* That's kinda what I feel like. Poor Jared is left trying to prop me up and cheer me up as much as he can while I flop around pretending to be a parapalegic and refusing to get into the shower. *sigh* Poor guy.

First day of training for the new RA's today. I really need to work on not being so damn judgemental right off the bat. I always leave room for my impressions to change, I give people many many (tooooo many) chances.. But I swear. These kids.. they are just kids.. Well, lets just say I had to go "Putt and Glo" neon golf tonight.

Which is pretty much where I found out exactly how dirty my hair was. Whoops.

Fake Bits

So I went out with Holly today and got my nails done. You know, those pretty yet pretentious fake acrylic nails, nice white tips - very wasp, very... bitchy. The girl, lets call her.. oh, Thao, told me I had rough man hands. Uh huh. But at the end, I had "feminine woman hands". It actually feels like I have a split personality starting at my wrists. I'm afraid that I'm going to start taking Valium, drinking at noon and eating little cucumber sandwhiches with these hands, and I won't be able to do a god-damn thing about it. Yup, call me Kitty. Or at least my hands.

Why Does Wes Anderson Have To Be So GOOD.

The Darjeeling Limited

Do Not Do Drugs

..or at least not when you watch this.

Some Planting Pics

A really tough block.. I think I MAY be crying in that picture..
My friend Seb and I on the last day, after we planted our last rookie trees together.. and then proceeded to drink almost an entire bottle of Southern Comfort...
I could fit in tree boxes. People find this hilarious.
Drinking beer after a particularily hard day.. where I might have mentally quit 12-30 times.

Penance.

I've just bought a bookshelf to put in my room so I don't have a leaning tower of Poe stacked on my desk anymore. Yes. More shit to add to the shit that I have in my room. J gets in tomorrow night, which means that I have until Saturday morning to both lose 10 lbs and get my house in order. So, I've left my dissasembled bookshelf in the hall and picked up the computer to escape. Ish.

I've been thinking the past few days of my choices of summer work - they've gotten progressively harder and more demanding, and slowly my off-summer work has started to do the same. And honestly, I've been contemplating the idea of pennace.

After years of dealing with depression (that I didn't know I was dealing with and didn't know was depression), leaving a boyfriend and a home and a cat, running away to India, I returned stable enough to work on my own, and took a job in the oilfield.

After I cheated on Bryan, the months that followed were sheer agony. I developed ulcers, lost copious ammounts of weight, slept all the time, cried at the drop of a hat, mentally self-flaggellated with texts on virtue etc etc. And took up tree planting this summer.

I find even in smaller circumstances, it's the harder tasks I'll take on after perceived moral lapses - as small as forgetting to pay for a coffee results in inadvertantly long workouts - ridiculous things. I thought about it tree planting.

Heaven forbid I ever kill somebody. I might get in shape and start working in a mine or something.

Just something I've been thinking about.

Go Figure.

Had a terrible nights sleep in my own bed last night. I was too comfortable and it was too loud. TOO comfortable.

Summer in Retrograde - Belated Post #1 - The Mercenaries.

They arrived, somewhat like marauding Huns, in the middle of the night. We woke surrounded by them - a new encampment of ancient mini vans and VW campers circled us, gear stacked at the ready. They arrived to breakfast with matching mohawks, smelling of whiskey and incense and weed, with narrow eyed and smiling - mercenaries in our tree war.

***

As far as my experiences with war go, it would be remiss to imply that I have any. Yes in those trucks in the morning the air of some sort of battle, mostly mental, is there. The clattering of gear being tossed into trucks, shovels and water bottles smashing together, tree boxes heaved and handed planter to planter out of the reefer, into the mist , all make your ears cringe at first, the first day, the first shift. Rookies are loaded overdressed and scared into the trucks with the same lack of ceremony as the tree boxes, they too making nervous noises that will grate for the first while. Those beside you rip duct tape in small screaming strips, the smell of sulfuric tape mixes with black coffee and rank boots as rookies are shown with as much patience how to tape their fingers; given brief invaluable tips that they invariably forget and figure out themselves mid-season, only briefly remembering somebody may have already told them and yet congratulating themselves on what they've discovered. Weary vets who know the drill bullshit over old seasons and smile knowingly at the too nice gear and clean rookies that are ramrod straight in beside them, while they curl to doorjambs and each other in an attempt to nap on the drive.

The noise is played in reverse as the trucks rumble to a stop on the dirt roads- gear, shovels and water bottles are wrenched rapidly from the back, the continuous thud of tree boxes being unloaded hand to hand and thrown to the ground plays in the background. Boots are pulled on, hands given a final lash of tape, rotting gloves pulled on top of that. Slowly, loaded with trees, dull and monochromatic with dirt, each is dispatched to pieces, shovels customized like guns - each glinting and flashing like muzzles. Once, sure and swift followed by a flash of green and a kick by the vets, once, twice, three times, slow and inaccurate by the rookies.

***

They didn't arrive unbidden. Painfully we've moved from block to block, tallies small and amounting to less everyday than we'd hoped. Encouragement, duct tape, coffee - all three are gone to be replaced by silence, callouses and whiskey. Zanzibar, rumour has it, has finished for the season, millions in, and dispersed. Rumours of possible friends, 6 planters, give momentary hope, lighter bags, faster steps. They're coming.

***

Everything has assumed a pace, unbidden, unwanted and inevitable. Plodding evenings with the same colours on your plate, nutrition lacking diversification from the shift before. Wagers are put on one of 6 choices - chicken, beef, pork, pasta, Indian or Mexican. Both ethnicity's are promptly removed after a day of low production yet high output. Bed. Wake. Cold. Peel the clothes from the bottom of your sleeping bag where they've garnered some warmth from your fermenting feet and squirm on dirty layer after layer. Breakfast. Truck. Plant. Repeat.

***

They're obviously unwell, to help us. Burnt out and propelled by what one of them has brewed in the back of their van, they move - tanned and leathery, through us. 10. 7. 8 year vets. Without effort, hung over, they plant 35000 trees in a day, sweating pepperminty gasoline whiskey around the campfire. They eat less, sleep less, drink more, smoke more, and plant more than any of us have seen. They are the only planters that pull their gear at the end of the day, resting it beside their vans, like sleeping with their favorite guns.

***

Then they leave. Grass matted where they were, whiskey bottles leaned against trees. Breakfast, truck, plant. Repeat.

Road Trip(ping)

It's about 30 degrees outside the car, and damn well nearing 40 inside. I'm in the back in flood pants, a bathing suit top and a tiara plowing through "To Kill a Mockingbird" and attempting to ameliorate my feelings towards the current heat with those that Scout must have in the deep south in the summer. As of right now, the cracks between my toes are swelling and the pages of my book are buckling under the sweat of my fingers, and neither are helping to lend sympathy to Ms. Finch.

Everything in here smells slightly of sunscreen and licorice and skunk, with nectarines every once in a while when the smushed escapee gets nudged under the seat in an attempt to redirect the sweat thats pooling in the back of my knees.

Each place that we've passed through have a prevalence of one type of a shop or another - Prince George has a number of pawn shops and thrift stores, Fort St. James had pizza and hardware shops, Quesnel ice cream and tattoo parlours.. poor Williams Lake and its abundance of corn bread women just had an over abundance of lingerie stores. So far, the highways have offered up nothing of interest, just mile after mile of incredibly depressing landscape in the hue of dead, dry and dying - and the occasional ominous cherry stand.

Inside however, crammed among backpacks, shovels, old books, new books, dirth/clean and every state in between, our three aching bodies are trading massages for um fillled screamers, magazines for books and brief naps for time in the drivers seat. The impossibilty of driving down the middle of BC in a non air-con Subaru from the 80s without being parboiled.. is dawning on all of us.

Done.

After an evening of Sodom and Gamorrah in the Woods (which sounds like a delightful play), we are officially done. Done the planting, the year ender, the sun burn, the bug bites, the 5:30 mornings, the 11pm evenings, the stress, the trees, the shitter digging the beer drinking the the... everything. It's finished. We (being Matt Hollie and I) packed the Subaru to the gills, said our good byes, and left.

In such an environment, you're thrown into sheer and utter exhaustion with people that you don't know, and forced.. encouraged... find it necessary.. to make friends. And all the masks and niceties and whatnot.. you just don't have the energy for. So you discard them, and what's really left, is you. And only you. Which means that while you make friends, better friends, stronger friends, faster - the people you hate on day two, you really hate on day 78.

But it's done. It's made me stronger, smarter, made me work harder, drink harder, laugh harder, cry harder.. than anything I've done in my life. And baring that, it made me a fair chunk of change and gave me a suntan.

We're headed to Kelowna, should be there by this evening. Miss you all.

No balls, no walls.

Just exhaustion. Sheer, unbelievable, unshakable exhaustion that is slowly but surely grinding me into the mud. BUT, it's for 3 more days. I can do that.

8 days and Counting.

Like most of my life lately, this blog will have to be fast, dirty and probably shallow. Har har. It's a treeplanting reference. Shallow trees.. *sigh*

I'm 8 days away from being done. Which alternately feels just as long as if we were at the start of the season, and surprisingly short. I've been out here for 3 months now. I'll have to actually type up some good blogs that tell you what the hell I've actually been doing like - learning to appreciate Ballantynes in the morning, learning why people don't wear thongs out here, getting leaches in strange and startling places, being pulled out of a bog by a New Zealander..

I wish I had more time to tell you.. it's been so much better. Ok. It hasn't. But it's been bearable and I've taken a lot of Motrin today. And the rain stopped. Which vastly improves just about anything. Oh. Except for the peeling blistering mess on my back. Which brings me to a new lesson- It's not just the bugs you need to worry about when planting topless. No, it's the sun too. Mom, thanks for the SPF 60, my nipples are happy. My back.. not so much. Balls to the wall they say - I'm almost done.

Shovels for Hands and Trees for Feet

Hello all, and apologies for the fact that this is a long time coming. I am neither dead nor too injured, just tired and had a day off on a SUnday, which basically means they roll up the streets and internet doesn't work. Yeah. You think I'm joking.

It has not stopped raining here, I feel like a piece of soggy bread thats falling apart at the crust. Some heartless SOB from another camp stole my rain jacket from the laundry mat and as such I have been braving it in wool sweaters and many layers of thermals. They will mildew in treeplanter hell, where they must plant uphill all the time, never downhill, and must bag up 500 large spruce at a time. And there will be no DEET there, no DEET my friends. I curse them, everyday, every morning, every drop. And if you are out there dear treeplanter, watch your back. For if I catch you in my MEC jacket, I will double plant behind you and steal your flagging tape, and eat your block treats BEFORE I hit you with my shovel. No mercy. NO mercy.

On the lighter side, such rainyness has allowed for such heartening in-camp activities such as- mud wrestling (or digging out the truck in the mud) fire dancing (or running around the fire trying to steam your thermals dry) boot races (who has the most water in their boots) and the 5/15 sprint (commonly known as the five day fifteen hour a day shift). It's like the Treeplanter Olympics, awards vary from cheap whiskey to being on the shitter digging crew. Yay!

I am well - busy, tired, bug bitten - but well. In an effort to procure at least 1 day off between our spring and summer contract we've brought in some planters from a big company that had time off - they're a a little like tree planting mercenaries. Messy, smelly, tough and hardworking. OH.. wait.. we're all like that.. Ok, I think they just drink more? OH..wait.. Regardless, it does not appear that we'll get time off (surprise) but will be moving up to Mackenzie on the 6th, camp set up the 7th, plant the 8th, until the 20th. Sweet lordy. 25 days left, then cherry picking for a month, then home. When you break it up like that it isn't so bad. Like, not so bad like "You have non-terminal cancer".

I miss you all, and will try to get to a computer with photos next day off. I hope all is well - if you see anyone in a red MEC rain jacket.. *draws thumb across throat*

Silviculture

sil·vi·cul·ture - (sĭl'vĭ-kŭl'chur) n. The care and cultivation of forest trees; forestry. Alt - The culture surounding the care and cultivation of forests and trees, usually involving a lot of whiskey, trench foot, PB&J and hopelessness. Oh, and late night dance parties.

It seems like no matter which company you're with, no matter where you plant, no matter what town you're in, that there are just some..standard practices. Dance parties while filing up the gas, spandex tights are perfectly acceptable- and encouraged- to be worn under shorts, (I call this "silvi-couture"), you should eat as much as humanly possible at all times, whiskey cures everything, duck tape is a perfectly acceptable substitute for a) a sewing kit b) electrolysis c) bandaids, and debts are paid in six packs or bundles of trees. It's a pretty good trade for 72 mosquito bites that I have. I got a glass of month old red wine for a reward at the campfire last night. Pretty sweet.

My Office.

Ok, so perhaps it was not as bleak as all this - it actually was very pretty, with three mountain ranges on 3 different sides and a beautiful lake in the middle. However, the constant summer storms with huge rolls of thunder and lightnight, and the fact that I wield a very metal shovel was a tad disconcerting. No more so, however, than the little snake I found and picked up and put in my back picker, assuming it was a dear little garden snake, and was told later by our resident biologist that it was indeed a very poisonous snake. Which completely circumvented my entire plan to get over my ridiculous dislike of snakes. I've now been advised that generally everything red and black in the natural world is poisonous. Whoops.

And then it got better.

I quit. And then I realised, in the hail, the bugs, the mud, the 21 cent land, the devils club, the slash and the hell.. that quitting was actually worse than treeplanting. So I sat in the truck and cried like a child for about 20 minutes, then I put my bags back on and I kept planting. And now that I know that quitting feels worse than the bugs, the bags and trench foot..I guess I'm here to stay. I was officially not a treeplanter for about 20 minutes. And then somebody told me that the reason that I was crying, was that I realised that I actually WAS a treeplanter, and that's pretty much worse. Because now I know I'll be back next summer. With the bugs, the bags, and the trench foot.

(And thanks JL, but I found the Deep Woods off and a bug net, and I'm ok now. And by ok, I mean that it looks like I have chicken pox or maybe pestilence, but I'm proactive. And right now I'm wearing Carharts that haven't been washed in 2 shifts, cowboy boots and a bathing suit top for a bra. Mud could only add to the allure I'm sure.)

I Just Looked Up How To Break My Own Arm

Oh my god. The bugs.. the bugs are out. I look like I have some strange tropical lumpy disease, and they don't care about Deet. In fact, I'm pretty sure that they just see it as a drink with their meal. I seriously consider on a daily .. hourly.. basis, how exactly I could maim myself and make it look like enough of an accident that they might let me go home. I am so exhausted. I want to be a waitress. I will work at Safeway. Just as long as there are no bugs, bears, snakes, or trees. I hate trees.

Motivational. Really.

So this is pretty much the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life.. And I'm pretty sure it will be the hardest thing I'll do until MAYBE I give birth. And even then, I'll probably have to give birth tree planting to make it SUPER hard.

This is how it goes. You're up at 5, breaky, drive to the clearcut. Bag up 300 trees or so (for me that's enough - about 60lbs or more, depending on the type) and then out into the block which can either be flat and nice and soft, or a rocky cliff. Plant trees, return to cache, get more trees.. plant those trees.. repeat. Like, 50 times. If you're a veteran.. repeat until you've planted 3000 to 4000 trees. If you're me, be satisfied with 1500. Oh yeah, occasionally, sit down on the block and cry. Go home 10 -12 hours later, dinner, and bed. Repeat 4 times, one day off.

This is such a strange job. Physically it's demanding. I've lost about 10 lbs, my legs are like rock, and one arm (my shovel arm) tries to choke me out in the middle of the night for what I do to it. You'd think it would be easy - the same motion again and again and again.. But to have the mental fortitude.. that's something else. I thought I'd done tough things.. damn. I know now that I really can do anything. Short of maybe Alaskan king crab fishing. Unless I do it with a shovel.

The people are fantastic - archeologists, farmers, art students, philosophy students so on and so forth - a strange fringe group that makes up the lone group here. There's only about 30 of us, so it's friendly and close.

I'm sorry my storytelling skills aren't up to par - I'm just about more tired that I think I ever have been in my life. I'll write more on a day off when I've had more coffee. Just thought I'd let you all know that I was neither eaten by a bear, or by the black flies. Though sometimes that's what I pray for. Mostly the bear. It would be quick, and I hear they still credit you for the trees that day. Sweet.

I miss you all. And uh - Starbucks. And razors. More in a week or so!

Yes, I may actually be a Gypsy.

Ok, so after 1 interpol concert, 1 country bar, far too many drinks, a really long bikeride, 3 days of packing, a bunch of tears and a 16 hour bus ride.. I am now in Williams Lake BC, getting ready to start my tree-planting adventure. I'm going to be here, and have access to the internet (god-bless the local library for having "guest passes") for the next 8 days approx, give or take a few. So I'll be able to update you guys on what it's like (at least at first) and tell you whether or not I have decided to become a full blown hippie. Which I doubt, because I ate this organic apple on the way up here and suffered mightily for it. I believe in pesticides.

I left last night at midnight with Susan and we arrived around now.. It was actually not so bad, a lot better than I thought it was going to be. 1/3 of the bus was treeplanters coming from Ontario (!) so it was nice to hear all the excited chatter and whatnot. They all seem like a particular, and peculiar, and frighteningly similar (see: me) type of people. I think I'll be ok out here. Susan says it's 90% mental.. and that since I was pretty much 100% mental, I would be ok. I think this may be a job where obsessive compulsive disorder may come in handy. That, or a distorted sense of reality. Like the ability to laugh at the fact we're actually staying in a logging town, where the fruits of our labour are eventually turned into deck furniture. Sweet.

Alright all, I'll attempt an update now and then. Otherwise, please consider Poshlust Inc. on hiatus.. and adventure.

Testing Out Camping Supplies..

I think these are just about the best hats ever.

Periphery Happiness.

I haven't had more than 4 hours sleep - and they're limited directly between the hours of 4am and 8am- in about 3 days. We've just moved somewhere around 500 students out of residence in two days, and I still have a modicum of patience and a hint o' sanity left. And boys rooms are really gross and yucky, even when they think they're clean. You know, ps, in case you were wondering.

Jared left today for Calgary and leaves Friday for California until August to drum his little heart out. It was horrible to kiss him goodbye and say "See you in August". It might as well be friggin' January it feels so far away. And it's not exactly like the communication lines between upper mainland BC and Cali are stellar. Especially not when all I'll have for the most part is a tin can and some string. *sniffle*

But.. some happiness is pending. I depart on Wednesday for wilder, if not warmer climes, to Fort St. James BC. I suppose that answers your question dear Anonymous - I'm not going back up into Northern Alberta, rather Northern BC. Fully equipped with tent, boots, sleeping back, anti itch, super socks, crank up lamp and a bear bell, I'll be tree planting from April to hopefully start of August. Another great Canadian adventure for yours truly. I kind of hope it evens out my environmental karma - rape the landscape through oil and gas one year, replenish via treeplanting the next. I'm looking forward to being back outside. It was so wonderful last year, hard work and horribleness and rain and sun.. anything but being in a climate controlled building.

I'm looking for suggestions on reading material... (that's an appeal to you folks..)

This is actually the funniest thing I have ever seen.

And I hate both Will Ferrell and Child actors.

On the other hand..

How can I not smile when Jared does this with the playdough to make me laugh?

There is something..

about this time of year that always makes me so .. slow. Sad is such a clinical word now, it should be all capitals and double d's and such. Just that feeling that I can't say that I try too hard to push away, I leave the sheets too long from the wash, the dishes too long from the sink. I have glasses of water everywhere and they all taste like nickles and are always colder and more pleasant.. and thereby disappointing.. than I thought they'd be. Everything gets covered with dust and such and it gets in my eyes at night when I can't sleep. I have to say parts of me enjoy it, don't want it to dissipate and be replaced by contentedness or some medicated okay-ness.

I read that I am privileged. Funny yes? I don't know why it bothered me, except that they writer seemed to offer such disdain at my luck and fortune of birth and work and ethic, to laud so much experience on not being privileged. It is as though privilege should automatically bring such happiness and offer us a get out of jail/life/experience free card. It made me laugh. I have the best of both worlds, experiences I always want to offer but are dismissed out of hand because I didn't have to have a student loan.

I have to say, contact with S. has left me confused and somewhat enlightened. It is funnier still reading his blog, knowing are that chances are he'll read this - what a silly world talking to others to space to nothing to talk to each other, but actually at each other. Like Nin in Under a Glass Bell, insisting on shouting at each other across rooms and doors and disgusted with the actual presence of each other. I was always confused at how it ended, now I know it was a whimsy and affliction of irrationality and silence that is so common to me and known to most, deliberately withheld knowledge that led to a failed test. What excitement it is to watch somebody fail and do your job for you, such success. *shrug*

I wonder if I ever was myself with him, or even here in blogland, yet enamored and still the distant and cold person I thought he always wanted me to be, or thought I always was, or thought he liked before and I was too surprised with the changes in myself to keep them in front of him?

Oh damn I hate this time of year. With the melancholy and SADD it brings up the memories of those I loath to remember the most.

Picture of the Day

Axel Erlandson underneath one of his own arbosculptures. Pretty cool.

1234 Leslie Feist I Couldn't Love You More...

Guarenteed to make you smile.

Cause that means there's a LOT of guys named James Bond out there.

Perhaps I am missing something, something that I'm hoping you guys will clear up for me. We were watching "Casino Royale" last night, and I have what may appear to be a silly question. Are the 007's all the same guy that we're expected to believe (despite incarnations as Roger Moore, Sean Connery, Daniel Craig and Pierce Brosnan) by suspension of disbelief.. just look different from film to film? Or are they just a bunch of guys that MI6 hires that just HAPPEN to have the same name, prediliction for martinis, women and danger, but are different? I'm lost. Help.

Is it just me...Or are the British and French just so much COOLER?

Or are these dogs KINDA like the slow dancing girls in beer commercials?


Vitalic - "Pony Part One"



And is this WAY better than the "Sunscreen" song by Baz Lurhman?

And so.. he goes.

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ” - Kurt Vonnegut

Vonnegut died last night in New York, at the age of 84.

Weeks Without Words.

We went for sushi a few times. When Jared is busy with school, Sabine is pretty much my date everywhere. Uh, which happens when Jared isn't busy too. She's the best date ever. Like below,
when we went to see Jared play and then went to Denny's.

Ok - beeramid and beer tent, and Ben and I trying to focus the camera. Lots of fun at noon, and Sabine gave herself a chocolate peanut butter mustache that same day due to too much Sleemans.

This is Jared waiting for 5 hours with me in the emergency room when I broke down and started crying and swearing in the shower when my rash got too horrible to bear. You can't really read it, but my little chart says "Patient reports red itchy rash over 90% of body save face etc." yeah. Etc. Thank God my "Etc" wasn't rashy. They gave me this awesome super antihistamine that was ALSO an anti anxiety drug and made the trip to his parents for Easter not NEARLY as nerve wracking.

Hmm.. there is no way to really describe what the rest of my couple weeks has been like unless I employ phrases like "academic holocaust on my brain" or "carb loaded paper writing binge" or even "delirious 1/2 drunk sushi farting binges". Yup. That about sums it up. Or, like Jared said last night "Isn't academia a nut?" Yes it is hunny, yes it is..

This is ACTUALLY my life.

1. I have a rash. I ate something that I didn't know I was allergic to, and broke out in pinpricks of excruciatingly awful, painful, itchy, nonstop spreading rash. The only place that it hasn't spread it my face and petunia, god bless. At least then I can blame my turtlenecks and long pants on the unseasonably cold weather we have been having and not the fact that I feel like an itch wrapped in an itch wrapped in the pox.
2. I'm spending Easter with my boyfriends parents, who are shy and sweet and lovely and I have nothing in common with except that we've all seen their son naked. And that's not exactly a talking point that you bring up over the Easter ham. And I'm so nervous that I'm getting even itchier, and the antihistamine slash anxiety medicine (I swear Jared talked the emerg doctor into giving me the combo to keep me calm) isn't working and I just look like a pincushion. And not even one of the cute ones that your mom used to have with all the satin chinese looking dolls holding hands in different colored pajamas around the edges.
3. While doing dishes to get ready to go, in my itchiness I'm ready to friggin' cry, and suddenly I'm standing in 2 inches of water because the water pipe connected my sink to the big pipe has fallen apart and now the only comfortable pants that I have are soaked up to the ankles in sour soy milk water and the remnants of pasta floating between my toes.
4. I have two essays to complete. Actually, one and a substantial ammount of editing. Editing that is further required because among the sour soy milk and pasta, was also my essay, which has been washed clean of any and all possible marginalia, editing marks and remarks by my proffessor and actually FLOATED into the middle of my kitchen.

*scratch*

Intent to Skew

"With a 28mm lens, the closer one gets to a subject, the less real-looking the person becomes. Can this extreme point of view force us to consider the surroundings of the subject? Artists Kourtrajme and JR photographed the residents of Clichy Montfermeil with an intent to skew. Famous for riots and anger, the neighborhood’s inhabitants are distorted by a lens that records humor, laughter and sometimes a lighter side of existence." - Veer

I've posted this on the side with that new handy YouTube viewer. All of the pictures have something to do with Clichy Montfermeil - either the Film (the first one) the riots (the second) political response (the 3rd) and so on. It's a neat set up. Click which you want to watch, and it pops up inside the blog at the top of the page. Neat. Check it out.

Raging.

I've that feeling, when you step into a hot bath, and right before you realise it's scalding it feels for a brief moment completely cold. And then you shake and shiver and yell. I'm so.. angry! I have no idea why, I just know that if I could, I would seriously hurt somebody. That feeling, when you just wish that somebody would cut you off so you could remove their front teeth with your knuckles, or trip somebody on the escalator. It's akin to feeling sexy for me I think. That feeling of rushing, of pulling, removing, determination. I think mayhap I need to take up squash or something.

This Gym Rat Drowned

Time - 11:36
Listening- Cold War Kids (Hang Me Out to Dry)
Watching - Jared play bond on the Playstation
Wearing - Jeans and a black tank top and my heart necklace, 4 day old hair
Eating- Rice Crispy squares.. nests..

What a great weekend - despite the fact that I drank way too much red wine, too many martinis and ate WAY too much (I'm going back to the gym tomorrow) - it was fabulous.
Friday night I went out with Ian for a lovely time at both Lux and the wonderful new Tzin (the old "Hole in the Wall" cafe on 104th.. wow) wine bar. Which, by the way, I'll be hitting up again on Tuesday night with the ladies. Really amazing little place - the wine list is divided "With Skins" and "Without Skins" (red and whites) and are paired (for the drunken idiot in all of us who wish to appear so stuck up to match our food and wine) with little colored dots. It's fool proof and hipster thick. They only seat maybe 20, but it's worth it to rub shoulder to shoulder with the pretties. And I accidentally touched one of the owners butts. It was pretty awesome, and not accidental at all.
Saturday night I posted my sad sack butt by the front door and did guest sign in for the dorms. It was pretty ridiculous. Despite my motherly admonitions, they still managed to sneak some neredowellers into dorms.. who proceeded to pee in the lint trap of the dryers on the 6th floor. Adorable aren't they? I particularily like the fact that one of them was wearing a toga made out of a daytona 500 print bed sheet. You can't help but laugh.
Sunday I had lunch with the ladies and staff and then coffee with Sabine in the afternoon at Starbucks. Jared didn't make it home until late, so we had a late late dinner and watched The Twighlight Zone. Which we usually watch on Saturdays. We decided that should we ever have offspring, we won't tell them that we spent Saturday nights inside watching The Twighlight Zone. I'm pretty sure that makes me look lame.

You Know You're Sorta Like That..

from toothpastefordinner.com

One Of Those Days

You know when everything seems to be weighing down on you.. money, work, school, the fact you actually have 70lbs of laundry and 9$ on your laundry card... It was totally one of those days. I went to class, and it was so intrinsically useless to my life that the time would have been better spent working on the numerous essays due...or bathing, which, much to the chagrin of my boyfriend I am sure, would have been preferable as this is day 4 of the stretch. (I did wash my bangs this morning. You know. A girl can only go so far.)
So yeah, it was one of those days.
And then, I sent out an e-mail inviting everyone for dinner (don't ask me why.) - a big easy pot of curry and rice. Sabine offered to bring wine, Joanna offered ice-cream, Kyle brough Guinness and Taylor's homemade Eatmore bars. I found this nice Swedish girl at Starbucks who apparently lives on the 8th floor and I brought her, Lauren and Amy and Susan came by, and we all had dinner. It was perfect. We drank, we laughed, we ate way way too much...
I feel so much better. Sometimes to recharge it helps to see a whole bunch of people well fed and watered and happier than I feel. My kitchen feels like a happy home, and I'm totally ready to conquer it all. Well.. at least tomorrow, and my AI essay. Which is a step in the right direction.

Another Ridiculous Mad Fold In

Wow. You'd think this one was made today.. not 4 years ago.
(and yeah, this IS what I do in my spare time)

Maybe I Can Afford This One..

This is from the Counterfit Crochet Project (part of the Anti-Factory site) and is aiming to set designers straight on the ridiculous nature of their 7,000$ bags. Which I still love. You know. P.S.

Yeah, Sorta How I Feel

Time - 9:47pm
Listening- Cold Hard Bitch - Jet)
Watching- Uh... Like, Fast and the Furious 18 or something on mute.
Wearing- My fav grey t-shirt and dirty ..sick gross muddy sweaty jeans.
Eating- Rice Crispies with sugar and some oranges

Do you ever ever feel so .. apathetic? It seriously has taken me even hours to commit to writing this post. I don't have a craving for anything (other than sushi, which is the norm) I could seriously sleep 24/7, and I just REALLY want the school year to be done.. and even though I still have 2 papers to go.. I don't even really care. *sigh* I mean, I'll do them (don't worry mom) and I'm in no danger of getting anything BUT a's this semester.. And still? I just want to sleep. I'm so swamped. This weekend was the busiest part of my week. Work, sleep, work, training... it never ends. Blech. And I feel fat and bloated. And I give you just so much interesting shit to read here hey. God damn.

This Helps My Ego

I got my name in lights with notcelebrity.co.uk

Graphtastic!

This great site makes graphs out of any site that you plug in.. above is Poshlust..

On Break

So, between working on Feminist Essays, Functionalist Essays, and trying to work out how AI is philosophically possible (because you know if Turing can't do it, then I'm sure a class full of mediocre twenty year old philosophy students can do it..) I also started work at Safeway and developed an addiction to Mario Cart that relaxes me enough at night to get all of the 4 hours of sleep that I've been running on. Yup.

Um.. Safeway. I'm not sure that I can really do this job. I mean, physically I can lift tonnes of grapes and boxes of cereal and whatnot, but.. um.. 8 hours of stocking various types of chips? By myself? I have enough problems to keep me busy for 8 hours, but if I can't talk to anyone? It's like the Zen of Stocking Shelves. You need to actually pace OUT the things that you want to think about, because if you think about too many things, you run out, then you start singing the Simon and Garfunkle tune thats on the radio and observing what exactly makes Buffalo Wing Chips taste like chicken and spice. It's horrible. Given, it's a good amount of money and I've been using handsoap to shave my legs, so I know I'll stick with it. But I'm going to have to carry a book of riddles or something. Or drink a lot prior.

Jared's big concert is this weekend and I get to meet his parents.. Yikes! I mean, I'm excited, but nervous. I hope they like me.. Eew. I sound like a pansy. But I'm still nervous. And they invited me to Easter dinner in Calgary. *deep breath* Yay! Hopefully they don't revoke when they meet me. *snort*

Alright - back to work on the essay. But before I go.. does anybody find it odd that Heather Mills, the one legged McCartney ex is on Dancing with the Stars? C'mon... that's weird.

This Is the Only Picture That Was Taken. And My Pee Smells Like Pilsner.

Andrea: That was a pretty awesome night. Does your head still hurt?
Jared: When did I say my head hurt?
Andrea: This morning.
Jared: I only wanted to be like you.
Andrea: This is the only picture that we have from last night. Jared: And it looks like it says "meat" on our t-shirts.
Andrea: But it really says "Team Irish"
Jared: Yeah. I hope everyone knows that this was taken at the end of the night, after many many beers.
Andrea: I'm sure they understand.
Jared: Hey, you completed one of your life goals last night!
Andrea: I've never wanted to drink a whole case of pilsner!
Jared: No! When we were jamming in the garage and I was playing the drums and Richard was on base and Sjord on guitar, YOU SANG!
Andrea: Into a microphone.
Jared: Into a microphone!
Andrea: I think that the Pilsner might have had something to do with that.
Jared: Maybe.
Andrea: It was a really great night.
Jared: My head hurts.

Some Thoughts at 3:11pm

a) My feminist philosophy class is located almost directly above the cafeteria, and everytime I'm there all I can smell is the baking break at the Subway underneath me. And picture a big, tasty phallic symbol sandwhich. Huh. The worst part? I'm more interested in the carbs than anything even vaguely dirty. Not that I'd do anything dirty with a sub.

b) My "good side" - see thin side- (I have good enough friends to point out that I should turn the other way in photos) I believe is primarily due to the fact that I'm missing a bunch of teeth on that side and makes my face sink in a bit.

And I Thought Only People With BAD Things to Say Carried Markers in their Purses

Totally Irantional

So I went to see the absolutely fantastic "300" with friends this weekend. Visually stunning with "more sixpacks than a beer depot", an amazing story (it's good acting on the Spartans behalf when you really believe they don't mind dieing on the battlefield) and an all round good time - I would definately give it two thumbs up. That something so great can be derived from an equally as fantastic graphic novel / pseudo historical tale - well, I think it was the cats pj's. Or the Spartans loincloth if you will.

However, this morning there was the most hysterical story on CNN. Ahmadinejad, the President of Iran, is claiming that "300" is part of the "researched, systematic moral degredation of Iranian culture and society." Apparently it's an attack against their Persian ancestry, and is shoring up support in the U.S. and the rest of the world against Iran as a result. Now, I will admit, a few lines in the movie did draw interesting parallels to defending democracy and valor and what free men do.. but.. ahem.. isn't that just what pseudo historical action flicks do? You know, the good guys defend whats good.. the bad guys make everyone their slaves? (Frig, you might as well just be talking about the Mason-Dixon line here, much less U.S. and Iranian relations..) Nevermind the fact that I doubt John, Dick or Harry is going to draw the relationship between Persia and Iran.

Though you've nicely done it for us. Operation Spartan it is.

Ever think "I could do THAT!"

Now you can. These turn out super-lovely, click once to change the color!

But Honey, I Only Had One!

If you can read by the light of your cup, then maybe they've had more than one! This is a super-sweet invention!

The Shortest Summary of Berkeley Ever

There was a young man who said:
'God
Must find it exceedingly odd
If it seems that this tree
Simply ceases to be
When no-one's about in the Quad'

"Sir, your astonishment's odd:
I am always about in the Quad.
And that's why the tree
Will continue to be,
Since observed by, Yours Faithfully, God".

-Ronald Knox

300!

I'm so psyched that 300 came out today.. And even more so after I read this review. It's possibly the funniest review I've ever read about bloody hunks..

Why Indeed It Does..

Yes, I Would Look In Your Window

I'll admit it, I'm a blatant peeper... watcher, eavesdropper, snoop, roustabout and user. I will read your e-mails if you leave it on your screen, and I will listen to you tell your friend about your horrible boyfriend/waxer/colonic. It's where I get my good info on sales, who not to date, what not to eat.. and more importantly.. where you got those great boots/highlights/nails. Chances are, if I'm being too nice to you in the grocery store, it's because I want to get out of you where you got your perfect jet black french manicure and I'm not interested at all in the ash content of your kitty litter.
But its actually worse than that. I will spend hours perusing The Cobrasnake, Hel-Looks, Facehunter, Corey Kennedy, Nylon, First Look.. just to get a peep at what others are wearing, where, drinking what, eating what, partying when. I spend so much more time concerned with what other people are wearing that I went out in a Punisher t-shirt, tights and boxing boots yesterday wrapped in my old man sweater. Its a serious problem/perversion.
And now I have found the ultimate site.
Streetpeeper.com not only lets you see what people are wearing, but where you can buy it, or if it's vintage, or if it's handmade.. ALL OVER THE WORLD. My god. I think I just had a happy fashion stroke and now have a clot in my brain that looks like the double CC's. *sigh* Check it out. Before I check you out. I'm going back to my bottle of wine and streetpeeper to see exactly what Janice wore at the Vena Cava show New York fashion week while I sit here in sweatpants and my bra.
Close your curtains!

Man, I am SO driving everybody home.

Hel Yes!

Geek love. Buy your ticket soon.

Let The Crazy Begin

I'm slipping slowly into crazy land! I have 5 research essays due at the end of the month and I'm buried up to my next in texts and photocopies of artciles and my fingers are covered in toner, hence so is my face. I look like I've been beaten upside the head with a bag of very small oranges. Couple that with the ink stains all over my hands and mouth from alternately writing and biting the wrong end of the pen, and I look like an acedemic accident. I fell asleep in a pile of reseach essays last night, clutching "Empiricism All the Way Down - a defense of the value neutrality of science in response to Helen Longino's contextual empiricism" and Jared had to pry it from my hands while I drooled all over my notes. Super.

Don't Tse At Me...

Nipples, the Bodies Special Ed Class.

The seasonably chilly weather as of late that has left me directing the masses to the beach has given me pause to contemplate the ridiculous nature of nipples. What other body part responds equally to cold and arousal? Thats kind of like me finding both Christopher Walken and Denzel Washington attractive. How strikingly inefficient. Which is not what I said when I almost lost one to my hoodie zipper.

Weekend Snippets

My boyfriend brings me flowers. Sorta. He actually just has nose spray that smells like flowers.

So Jared and I spent a really awesome weekend together, have to say it was exactly what I needed to get over the blah's of the previous week. Friday night we went out for sushi and ran into Ian and Greg at Kyoto and had a great time chatting and munching on maki and sipping on Kirin. It was so lovely. Then we went up to Starlite room to watch "Do Make Say Think" and try (unsuccesfully) not to appear to be hipsters. Unfortunately, they didn't have Becks, and I refuse to drink Pilsner.. so I had to have Stella. Like all the other stripe wearing unwashed masses. Yeeps. Luckily we were too poor to actually buy liquor and poored a whole flask of the captain in our coke glasses. Definately poor student style - and it was great. The concert was phenomenal, they're kind of like an instrumental Broken Social Scene.. which can be a good when it comes to their lyrics sometimes. It made my heart swell, and standing there with Jared with the great music and the beer and the lights.. It was fantastic.
Saturday we relaxed and went to the school where Jared practiced and I wrote my essay, then watched "Man of the Year" (not bad - a lot more serious than we thought, a really interesting commentary on the media and democracy). Sunday Ian and I went to Value Village and the Gravity Pope Warehouse Sale (crazyness) then stopped by this new little Viet-Fusion place for some muchies with friends. Watched "The Prestige" last night, and had a great sleep. It was perfect. Just about the best weekend I've had in a while.

Hipster Window Shopping

ALLLLMOST.

THESE could almost make me want to drink Coke. Almost.

"Serious Hipster Appeal"

...or so I hear. Vice has launched it's own online tv channel. And hey, it says it's rescuing me from Television's Deathlike Grip. Out of the frying pan I say. Not safe for work folk.. NSFW.

Do Make Say Stance

Spent the day reading, cleaning, then Mike called and we went for coffee and shopping for some grandpa clothes. Well, didn't INTEND to get grandpa clothes, but it seems like that's what Mike tends to lean towards. *smile* It was great, he found tonnes and tonnes, and I found this super cute cheap Proenza Schouler lookalike dress and a green and black scarf. I really want to go to the Do Make Say Think show tomorrow night but I don't think I have the $$, though it would be an amazing show. Sources say they're bringing two drummers - I'd love to go.. waah, what a baby I am. Drank chocolate milk shakes and ate cherry pies and now I have to buckle down and start one of my four (4!) gd research papers. Damn it. It was worth the day of shopping and eating just to see Mike do the b-boy stance with the knit monkeys. Indeed.

B-Boy Stance..

And this will better explain the next post. Watch and weep. With laughter.

It's Never Good To Name Your Business Over Beer

Went out with Ian and Alison to Savoy for some strawberry beer and delish ginger salmon roles and whatnot. Sat and chatted about Ali's upcoming photography clients.. including those who get "engagement"photos done. I think it's great. We've decided that she's going to do other photos to round out her business. "From Reception to Conception". But they'll be classy. Like, black and white porn. Sweet.

Love it.

Thanks to Jared for getting me hooked..
www.clearification.com

Global Warming Now Has It's Own Logo

This was offered up by designer Johnson Banks to all who need to raise awareness about global warming. Thats Hot.

The Grocery Store.

They've recently revamped our stuffy little neighborhood Safeway into a "Safeway Lifestyle Store" where they now carry gorgeous Reidel glasses and tonnes of yummy organics and even have a nut bar. Honestly - this little wooden carousel where you can mix and match your own nuts and make them into.. well, nut butter. They put in hardwood floors and track lighting, a deli and a Starbucks, and hired a really super sexy pharmacist that will make you want to take your Valtrex prescription somewhere else. Everyone looks so much better, sexier, cast in shadow among the apples and garlic, though if you haven't been there before it's a little bewildering. It now seems a little shameful not to get dressed up to do your grocery shopping, the lighting is better than most clubs in town - though their placement of various vibrating profalactics on the OUTSIDE isle of the pharmacy is a strange, though hilarious, choice.

And now the Tuesday expeditions to see local Fire Hall 1 do their shopping are all the more hilarious. They're there every Tuesday to do the shopping, and every housewife and dorm dwelling woman know that fact. Watching the women caressing their apples and being terribly choosey about their kielbasa has never been more amusing, especailly since they had staked out the beautifully lit places by the plums and dragon fruit. Given, I was there by the prepackaged salad mixes kneading pickled cabbage and drooling lit by the one flourescent bulb there was left in the whole shop.. but damn they're handsome. That new Lifestyle Safeway really gets me hot. Mostly because of the nut butters.

My Kicks..

..are the same color as the ice-be-gone stuff!

The Fall Of Formal Shorts

They fell HARD.

I'm Not Him.. But..

There's this guy in my mum's neighbourhood who writes these incredibly conspiracy theory missives regarding MSG, gay people, prescription drugs etc etc (all three of which apparently helped kill his parents, with the help of the government) and then stuffs them under your windshield wipers at night. And I mean, I'm OBVIOUSLY not like that.

But don't you think that the announcement that all British troops would be withdrawn from Iraq preceded Prince Harry's announcement that he was GOING to Iraq..by a day.. is a little strange? Come ON.

Yes, These Will Be My Easter Shoes

Viktor and Rolf

2:19am

I can't sleep.. I took in 6 paintings to the gallery today, and now there are these strange empty places on my walls. The big one that usually hangs in the kitchen has had its place taken by the framed Holgate print that my sister gave me, and it makes it look so grown up in there.. coupled with the lone, covetted bottle of wine I have left and the bottle of Captain Morgans and the bright purple beta that isn't mine.. and really, I'm not sure whom he belongs to.. Makes it looks strange, and not like my kitchen. I washed my sheets and not even that is helping, and it usually makes me fall asleep right away. I painted my nails this god-awful pink orange tropical 40 year old woman color and its making my hands feel heavy so I've been chewing it off, and now all I can smell is acetone and glaze. Ian put me on the family cellphone plan and now I have a cellphone and I feel like there are all these strange intrusive points of contact into my home and brain now.. the tv, the radio, the phone, the cell phone, the computer.. I'm sure that makes me sound crazy. Maybe I've just been home too long today, in my own company. Do you ever just feel so.. so.. tired. I mean, I'm sure its the mono, and thats why I can't get up and have the sniffles today (I cried in the greeting card isle and the lady at the card store looked at me and said in such sincerity "how wonderful!"). I have this overwhelming feeling today that my house will never be in order.. I feel like I am never put together, never matching, my hair is always falling down and my mascara is always smeared, my shoes are always scuffed, I'm always late and every important piece of paper is always wrinkled. I just feel so.. un-collected? Is it just me, or is everyone else better put together than me? Everyone ALWAYS has lipchap, or kleenex, or a quarter.. Am I doomed to forever paint my nails the worst shade of pink and have a hole in my shirt? Is there a knack that you just have to have? Or will books always be stacked in corners and will I always have a junk drawer that extends to an entire ROOM? *sigh* Maybe that's why I'm awake. I have such a messy spare bedroom. If that isn't a mental metaphor.. well, I don't know what is.