emotional anorexia.

i will not eat the marshmallow.

this folks, is likely the only time that exterting total obsessive control over what you let yourself consume is actually 100% good for you.

simple math

patio hopping with cute boy + knee-weakening kissing at the door = buzz buzz buzz.

what's in a name?

So doing what i seem to do best....surf the net on company time...I googled myself as i periodically do to see what the "me's" of the world are up to. I already know i'm a world class highland dancer in England and a journalist in Ottawa but this time Wikipedia kindly popped up giving me a definition of what i am, or at least, what my first name means.

"An asexual budlike propagule as in liverworts, capable of developing into a new individual; a bud."

And now doing what i do second best at work, blogging on company time, I have to say at first i was aghast. Here I was hoping my name meant something fun like 'bright morning star' or 'saint of chocolate and wine' and instead i got 'a morphing asexual'.

I can embrace the morph, it fits with my current philosophy as of late, but i completely contest the asexual reference.

My kernel will pop....just watch me

Perusing this week's issue of NOW , I delved into the cover story, an interview with Kevin Smith who is on a press junket to talk about Clerks II...where we find Bill & Ted or whoever those two stoner dudes were, now in their 30's, still behind a counter.

In the article, Kev talks about the impetus for the sequel:

"Our generation seems to be one that wants to play by our own rules. We'll find our dream jobs, and until then we'll work at these shit jobs". What happens, though, if you don't find that dream job? It totally worked out for me, but I realize that I'm more lucky than talented. Luck and timing made Clerks what it was. But there are so many people – some of my friends included – who are waiting for their ship to come in.

It's like popcorn. Sometimes it pops and sometimes it just sits at the bottom of the bag."

Oh i'll pop..because if I can't eat the marshmallows, i definitely better be making some popcorn.

Mondays

I love mondays.
Hate sundays because I know monday is coming..but love mondays.
Mondays are the days I get together for dinner with my ladies. A standing date that when missed, is missed dearly.
The food is always good but the shared chat, laughs and on few occasions, tears, and are always better.
tonight was my turn to host.
5 bottles of vino later (it's the summer, we're allowed), T, said she was sorry we left so many dishes.
As one who hates chores and leaves unfolded laundry for more than a week, I never seem to mind on Mondays. The girls leave and I crank up my ipod/bose combo and emotionally *surf* on the high I always seem to get after hanging with these fine ladies.

so now, as Madonna and I rock out, I'll finish cleaning, then proceed to stay up too late researching the Winnebago we all drunkenly agreed to rent and head to Texas in.
Beaded shirts and all.

lunchtime

last night I made my lunch - a feat unto itself given I'm typically running out the door shoving two slices of bread in my bag and wondering what creative things I will do with that come lunch hour.

today's lunch does consist of a sandwich, but no ordinary sandwich my friend.

today I have a two wholegrain slices lovingly slathered with a homemade spicy avacodo mayo, topped with grilled chicken, baby spinach and triple cream brie.

Oh yeah, who's your daddy.

though perhaps i should say it's "brunchtime" given it's 11:30 am and i've just powered through 1/2 of the sandwich and trying in vain not to scarf down the half...........

too late.