It must be said

American Apparel ads make me feel stabby.

The Tank Thong? Do I really need to have my eyes attacked daily by a banner ad consisting of 20 womens' butts with different colour thongs crammed up them? (I think it's actually the same woman, only the thongs have been colour-changed in Photoshop - but you probably know what I'm talking about.)

I'm not the first one to make this complaint, I'm sure, but American Apparel ads make me feel dirty. Not dirty as in sexy, but dirty as in "I wish I could bathe myself in bleach and scour everything from my brain to my toes with a Brillo pad." I feel unclean.

Sigh. I wouldn't have said anything under normal circumstances, but I was just catching up on the day's fugs at Go Fug Yourself, and blammo! Tank Thong Ass right up in my grill! I just had to share how icky I felt with you, Internet people.

Now to try to clear my brain so I can sleep.

The Wrong Pants

I'm at a kind of awkward stage in my body at the moment. My old jeans are too big. Not too too big, but stretched and saggy. When I bought new jeans, I bought a size down, because I was determined not to buy the same size and have them do the stretched and baggy thing to me immediately.

Unfortunately, the size down are just a touch snug.

Okay, that's not true. They're fine in the legs and butt (although maybe a bit short, this style didn't have the long option that my old style did), but there is some severe muffin-top action happening up top. Severe enough that I'm glad to be alone in the office today as I attempt to stretch the waist out a bit.

It's just putting me in a really bad mood. I know I'm not thin. I'm pretty sure my body was not designed to be thin. I've got broad hips and shoulders, and that's okay. I'm more concerned with getting healthy than I am with getting *thin* - but, damn these pants are making me unhappy today.

I guess I'll be making the switch to my stretched and saggy pants at lunch.

Storytime

I'm back again. I took a little time off from blogging...mostly because I was approaching my 100th post, and I wanted it to be something meaningful. But it's hard to squeeze meaning out of hot dog lunches and looking after a friend's cats.

This past week was kind of rough, work-wise and personally. I can't talk about the work stuff (more's the pity, although I really don't need to keep hashing it over, so I guess it's more of a blessing), but the personal stuff...Yeesh.

Here goes...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to be an actress. She studied drama all through high school, and refused to even consider any other career. After high school, she auditioned for a couple of theatrical courses at a variety of colleges, and ended up in the Nation's Capital.

When she was there, she met a guy. He was older than she by a year, and he was the most interesting guy she had ever met. He lived one floor down in the same apartment building, and they hung out a lot. She was really, really into him. And although she longed to tell him, she was shy and hoped he would figure it out.

Unfortunately, he was really, really into a girl he had known for years, and so nothing really came of the infatuation. Our heroine, though, had suffered a tragedy - she now compared every man she met to the guy from college.

This had a negative impact on her relationship life. A few years later, she dated a guy for a few months, but after they broke up (because he was in love with a girl he had known for years) she never dated again. Not that she didn't want to, but circumstances just didn't work in her favour.

Flash forward to Monday, July 5th.

Our heroine was watching a great Canadian comedy show, and who should she spot as an extra in most of the scenes but the guy from college. In addition to all her "oh, why didn't I tell him how I felt" angst, there was a great big dollop of "why was I such a coward that I let people talk me out of following my dream?" woe. That was enough to cue a low-level funk.

Work interefered with her attempts to feel better. And then, on Facebook, she saw photos of the guy from college with his girlfriend...and her pregnant belly. They, naturally, were thrilled about their soon-to-be-born progeny. And our heroine felt sad, because she was alone and had two incredibly noisy cats instead of babies. She felt bad because her first reaction to their happy news had been to be miserable. She was happy for them - she was just a lot more unhappy for herself, because it felt like her life was going downhill.

So, Friday, after a shitty week, she went to a neighbour's house for coffee, and after that she came home to drink vodka coolers and eat shrimp noodles. And she feels a bit better for having shared her tale with the Internet. Where anyone and everyone can read it. Because, honestly, her life isn't over just because she isn't doing what she originally planned. It's just different.

In the words of Marcus Aurelius, "Everything that happens happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so." You just have to get over the feeling sad part.

Happy 100th Post!

Judgemental

I was looking at a dating site (trying to recover from the humiliation of my last look at a dating site), and all I could think of was how bad the spelling was in many of the ads. I thought, "I could never get involved with you - you obviously didn't think to run that through a spellcheck program before you posted it."

Then I felt bad, like I was judging people unfairly. It's not like I haven't spelled a word or two wrong in my day. Maybe eHarmony was right - I will be alone forever.


On the plus side, it's the weekend! Huzzah!

Cryptic Note

I've been taking notes since yesterday in the Tenorikuma notebook I purchased on my first trip to Puroland. They're tiny bears who run a coffeeshop (at least, I think they're bears - their tails look a bit more like racoons), and they're accompanied by smiling sugar cubes, spoons, and little wisps of steam. I wasn't going to get sucked into something boring, like Hello Kitty - although I do have a fondness for Kuromi-chan (or Bondage Bunny, as we like to call her) - no, I am on Team Tenorikuma all the way.

I mention this because I found a page where I had written some cryptic notes. I think maybe I wrote them while I was still in Japan - I only received this book in the mail yesterday - but have no idea what it means. It's about sushi rolls, salads, and main dishes - but right in the middle is this cryptic note:

"Please feel free to ask a NINJA"

Was I doing a lot of drugs back in the day? Was I tripping? Is this like that notebook full of ramblings from the time I spent the night in a Shinjuku McDonalds, waiting for the trains to start running again?

And at the back are 6 pages of notes from two episodes of Stargate: Atlantis, which are obviously for that story I wrote for the Secret Santa exchange. That takes me back. Maybe one of these days I will get around to watching the rest of SGA...maybe.

All I need is a notebook, and a really cool pen, and I am happy.

Feeling whiny

I can be pretty obnoxious at time, I think.

I complain a lot, because complaining is so easy, but really, I have a pretty good life. I have my health, a family who loves me (I think), and some really great friends (some old, some new). Yes, there are things that could potentially make my life even better (someone to share it with, a money tree, world peace), but on the whole, I am pretty lucky.

So, when I'm a jerk, I'm really a jerk.

The little voice in my head should be saying stuff like, So what, a girl you went to school with (and didn't even like much at the time) is making a go of it as an actor, where as you went home and lost your nerve and never pursued a career in theatre? So what, the guy who broke your heart years ago is having a baby with his partner and they're both really happy and excited about it, and it makes you feel like you're going to be alone for all eternity? So what?

Right on, voice in my head. I had dinner at Kara's last night, played with the baby, and enjoyed being in the company of pleasant people. I shouldn't let myself get into the mopes just because of a photo.


In positive news, I made a really nice soup for lunch today - Coconut Chicken, with carrots and potatoes and stuff. I feel like I am becoming the Queen of Soups up here.

This is why I shouldn't let myself get ridiculously excited about stuff

I told myself not to get worked up over this email thing, but I did anyway, so when he didn't email yesterday, I got sad.

I told myself to cheer up, went home (where I don't have a computer, because of cyber-herpes), had a nice gossip with Dianne from Lindor, and told myself that he was probably busy.

Today, however, when there's no email, I start getting paranoid - "Was my email too weird? Does he think I'm creepy? Why am I so obsessive?"

Deep breaths. It's almost the weekend.

Pyjama Day

Not my actual pyjamas, of course, that wouldn't be appropriate for the office. But the outfit I am wearing as as close as my business clothes come to being pyjamas - black trousers and this crazy, stretchy patterned dress that my mother hates and told me not to bring with me.

She says it is unflattering and makes me look pregnant - I know it is a good pregnancy dress, because I sold it (well, not this dress, its twin, obviously) to a pregnant Muslim woman who wore it over her maternity pants...she changed into it in the store, and she was so adorably cute I wanted to squeal. By some fluke, her plain hijab matched the red in the pattern, and she was one of those glowing pregnant women who make carrying twenty pounds on their stomach look like no big deal.

I digress.

The point is, the dress may not be flattering, but it is super-comfortable, and reminds me of a nice person who was looking forward to an amazing moment in her life. Wearing this pyjama-like dress is like putting on a hug and wearing it all day.

I had a bad night. My hair is falling out and my skin is flaking off, I have a headache that won't go away, and my very nice neighbour asked me (earlier in the day) how I was doing, lonely-wise, and last night I just fell apart.

I've been stressed about work, and I put my elbow through my brand-new couch (long story), and I miss my best friend and my cats and my mom, and I don't have a phone yet, and e-Harmony keeps mailing out these emails about finding love over Valentine's Day, and I wonder if I jumped too far with my eyes closed...

Night is the worst time. I can keep myself busy enough during the day that there isn't time for navel-gazing, but there's not enough to distract me at night.