As tired as a… well, something that gets really tired

I know, it’s been a while, but I’m not slacking.  Really.  And it’s not that I have nothing to write about.  I have about a million posts that are mid-draft… while swimming around in my head, that is.  Yep, lots to talk about.  The one hindrance?  That stupid job of mine.  The last few days have been dominated by a rigourous schedule that’s allowed me only eight hours off between each shift.  What it hasn’t allowed me is the opportunity to spend any time online.  Did you get that??  *I* haven’t been online in days.  Just ask Courtney.  She knows.

Outside of work related obligations, I’ve actually been trying really hard to keep myself busy.  There’s something that I’m waiting on that would kill me if I didn’t have other things to think about in the meantime. 

Things should be looking up now, though.  Work will slow down for the next week or so (I think) and I should be able to find opportunity to get these thoughts out.  That’s the good news for me and for you.  The next couple of days should see this blog return to its regular non-stop entertainment state.

In the meantime, check this shit out.  Hospital Music is the return to a sound that brings back a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings for me and it’s out today.  Enjoy.

Grrrrr…..

Yes, I am a union member.  Yes, I support the causes of my brothers and sisters.  Yes, there’s no question that I’d honour any picket line.  So, does that mean I can’t be disappointed that I won’t get to see Ryan Adams & the Cardinals this Saturday night?  ‘Cause I am totally pissed.

Edited to add: I forgot to include this link.  That explains what the hell I’m talking about.

Victory

I hate to say this, but I’ve come to realize that the word means very little to me.  When it arrived in the email Courtney sent to fire the starter pistol on the final week of this summer’s (first? only?) Blog-Off, every tiny little cog and wheel in my brain came to a grinding halt, each of the few creative juices that I normally have flowing solidified.

What does victory mean to me?  Well, it seems kind of shallow to say, but the only meaning it has for me is sports related.  When I think victory (or, rather, Vicktory), I think of football and frankly, that isn’t really something that I want to be pondering right now.  As much as I can’t wait for the season to start, it’s a touchy subject at the moment.

So, that’s it for me, boys and girls.  I’m bowing out.  There’s just nothing I can do with victory without expending an abundance of time that I just don’t have right now.  Sorry.  Hopefully the others won’t let you down.

Whatever gets you through the day

So, I worked for sixteen straight hours today.  I also foolishly committed to another extra sixteen hours over the weekend before returning to work bright and early on Monday morning.  I don’t really know what I was thinking, but looking back, it’s probably stuff like this that makes it somewhat appealing.

(Background: My work partner went to school with my darling, dear Kelly.  Each thought they had an idea about who the other one was, but they were never what you’d call friends.)

Travis: So, I saw Kelly —– the other day on FaceBook.
QueenieCarly: Yeah?
T: Yeah.  I totally know who she is.  She’s a cutie.
QC: Indeed.
T: And she was really nice too.
QC: Yeah, she was still nice when I met her.
T: Tell her I’m sorry she ever got hooked up with you.

He reads over my shoulder as I send a text message detailing the above conversation.  About two hours later, the following text appears in my inbox from his phone.

Carly, it’s kell kell.  omg bff! Travis is sooo cute, bff!

I mean, come on.  Have you met us??  That shit is funny!

I got him back a little while later.  As we were sitting down together, talking and taking a little break, the following exchange took place.

T: Fuck, (his wife) didn’t pack any drinks in my lunch today.
QC: Oh, so that’s why you’re drinking water.
T: Exactly.  You know, I’m going to phone her.
QC: I’ll give you $20 if, when she says "how are you?" you say "Thirsty!" and slam the phone down.

I think that’ll end up being the toughest twenty he’ll ever earn.  Serves him right.

Best gift ever

Even though the birthday belonged to Aaron, I wasn’t left out in the cold.  Nope, when I got in from work yesterday, there waiting was a package from Amazon that I had no recollection of ever ordering, my name printed across the front of it.  I tore it open to find… gasp!… the complete first season of Entourage!  How could something so magical just appear on my doorstep like that?  One word.  Amy.  A few weeks back, I asked you guys if you thought I’d like the show.  She was the only one who replied and she guaranteed I’d love it.  She was so confident that she had the DVDs sent to my door.  Have I ever told you that she is THE coolest friend EVER?  Now you know.  And I can’t believe that the rest of you held out on me!

I had to tear myself away from the TV in order to actually get some sleep before work today.

And I think I love Vincent Chase.  Almost as much as I love Amy.    

Today is Aaron’s birthday

Would anyone care to guess what was underneath all this pretty wrap??

Michael Vick – Really?!?

Here’s something that’s been weighing on my mind over the past week or so.  With the news of Michael Vick’s indictment and the allegations that he was more involved in dog-fighting than he’s been letting on, I’ve had quite a few people ask me in emails and face to face whether I’ll be able to cheer for him in the future and if he’ll still be my favourite player.  The short answer is yes.  I’ll admit that I am turning a blind eye and that I am a big fat hypocrite.  As I told my uncle the other day, this whole ordeal seems like it was scripted as my own personal nightmare.  I’ve never made a secret of my strong feelings against animal cruelty and my interest in protecting each and every little being out there.  (I’ve been accused of caring more about animals than people.)  Combine that with my favourite QB being responsible for the mistreatment (to say the least) of who knows how many dogs and I’m the one who ends up with a broken heart.  His crimes are inexcusable and undeniably disgusting.  I’m ashamed of his involvement, but I maintain that I have never been a fan for anything other than his actions on the field.  For that reason, I can continue to cheer for him just as I have in the past. 

What is most interesting, I find, is, as I mentioned above, the number of people getting in touch with me to ask about my allegiance to the guy.  It has set me to thinking a lot.  After all, when this same guy knowingly transmitted an incurable disease to another person, no one questioned my allegiance and the news was certainly nothing more than joke material.

What’s up with that, folks?  Am I to understand that the lives of dogs are more important than the life of one woman, if not more?

Both actions are worthy of disgust, outrage even, but isn’t it funny that only the one involving the dogs has received any sort of public outcry.  Think about that.

Rainy day rules

Things have been crazy around here.  I hate to go all weather reporter on y’all, but just last week it was unbearably hot and muggy and now today, it’s raining cats and dogs.  Me, I hate the heat so it’s more than a relief in my eyes, but it’s just weird.  You hear what I’m saying?

The kinfolk: SJ, birthday boy brother Craig, QC, and my Dad, (as Flappy calls him: half of that duo of grumpy dudes that hangs out in The Muppet Show balcony.)

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I may have mentioned this before, but I’m not a shopper.  I’m an in and out kind of girl.  I like to know where I am going to get exactly what I want.  I like to go there, buy it and then go on with my business.  No wandering around for this chick, no browsing, no trying things on and no comparing prices between stores.   The thought of visiting a mall makes me cringe and there is no catalogue in my brain detailing the various return policies held by different retailers.  In fact, upon finding out that something was ill-suited to me, I’d probably take what I’d paid for it as a loss before I’d traipse back to the store to refund or exchange it.  I just hate all of it.  *Except*…  for some crazy reason that I’ll never be able to justify or explain, if I’m with my girlfriend Sharlene, I could do it all night.  She brings out the inner shopper in me.  She is a shopper extraordinaire. 

Last night, for the first time in far, far, far too long, we got to spend a little one on one time together.  Where better to do it than in the place where our friendship was really born, where we worked just down the hall from one another, Lougheed Town Centre, although, back in the day, they just called it Lougheed Mall.  (When I’d thrown out the idea of a movie, she’d replied: "I would love to go to a movie but I don’t see you often enough to give up two hours not talking."  Point taken.)

With one of my oldest (still close) friends in tow, I wandered the mall for two straight hours and man, I could have gone on way longer.  I don’t know what it is about that girl, but the important part is that I didn’t spend a lot of dough, while still landing myself a couple of pretty cool purchases.

• Bathingsuit bottoms to match the halter top that Flappy gave me last week perfectly.  Much cooler swimwear than the lame ass suit that I bought nearly three years ago and never put on until a few months ago and even then only because I had to wear something.
• The exact sexy (read: slutty) heels that I have been imagining and coveting for months and months now.  See Exhibit A, above.  What do you think?

So, that’s my aimless shopping for the summer, if not the year.  I’m pretty excited about my purchases and I can’t wait for the opportunity to sport them both, although not together.  Unless… no, I’m not entering a pageant anytime soon.  I’m just too busy these days.

Since I’m stuck inside all night, I have a few projects I’m looking forward to working on.  I had a guest over a while ago and he was shocked that I had very few photos in my apartment.  So was I.  I don’t know where they’ve all gone, but I used to have them all over.  I have a huge collage picture frame that is empty and wrapped in cellophane and has been collecting dust for well over a year.  I’m intent on filling tonight.  Then I have a few birthday cards to make.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Okay, okay, I’m late

I had really wanted to post some happy birthday wishes for my girl, Amy earlier in the day.  Unfortunately, I got stuck trying to remember a really funny text message she sent to me during her graduation ceremony (see photos), convinced that I’d written it down somewhere and by the time I caved and accepted the fact that it wasn’t going to happen, well, I was what some might called screwed for time.  Alas, this isn’t the only way I’ve failed one of my favourite friends on this, her birthday.  Nope, I also managed to assert my disorganization by discovering her packaged birthday present still sitting on the table by my door as I rushed out for the aforementioned obligation that, again, prevented me from doing anything to correct that either.  Maybe if I kiss her ass enough now, tell her how much I love her, she’ll forgive me.

Amy was dropped into my life almost two years ago (minus about nine days, I believe) when we found ourselves sipping wine side by side at a winery just outside of Portland.  I very rarely meet anyone while traveling.  I tend to keep to myself both home and away, but for some reason, some twist of fate, I looked at her, one sample ahead of us in the menu, and said "So, how’s the red?"  And from there a friendship was born.

We kept in touch by email and sometimes the phone and met again when I was in town for a Blazers game the following spring.  Since then, she’s been up to visit me twice and I’ve been back down to visit her two times as well.  We met in the middle once.  In that time, we’ve done a lot of eating and drinking, a bit of shopping, she did some graduating and we’ve talked a lot about politics, social issues, We Are Scientists and Maurice Lucas.  For all the things we have done together and with others, my greatest memories are of the few and far between moments that Amy and I get alone together.  She is sharp and witty and oh so intelligent.  When I stop to think about it, I’m amazed that one single moment, one tiny little question, could bring into my life a friend I am sure I will cherish forever. 

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until
they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. – Anais Nin

Happy birthday, Amy!

Click here to view our very own FaceBook photo album.

Breasts

Courtney‘s email announcing our newest Blog-Off word was met with a stunned response when it hit the QC inbox the other day – what am I going to write that?"  Or rather, those?  I quickly recovered when into my head popped a reminder of something that, at least for me, has been very closely linked to breasts in the recent past: cell phones.  I know that more than a few of you are nodding right now, well aware and possibly even a little guilty of (or benefiting from) where I am going with this.  If not, stick around.  I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

In this day and age, who doesn’t have a camera phone, right?  They’re great for those days when you forget your digital on the kitchen counter and you don’t want to miss recording a memory, when you can’t resist sharing with a friend the perfect pair of shoes you just found, when you’re too lazy to put pen to paper to record that number you need or when you’ve put together the perfect combination of shirt, camisole, bra, whatever it takes, to makes your tits look amazing and don’t want to miss the opportunity to share the view with someone who can truly appreciate it. 

This infamous photo, cleverly referred to as ‘How do you like my manicure?‘ in our circle, was a joint effort by me and Kelly.

No, despite what you may think, I am not the only one who has done this.  In fact, I’ve realized that there is nothing unique about me at all.  To test this theory, I’ve started to broach the subject in girls only situations and, I gotta tell ya, the topic is usually met with a chorus of cell phones snapping open as everyone scrolls to share their offerings.  That’s right.  You see a 20- or 30-something year old woman with a cell phone in her hand, chances are she’s got a shot of her boobs on there.  And if she’s worth her salt, it’s a lock she’s shared it (them) with someone who others might deem inappropriate.

Yeah, you heard me.  Isn’t technology great?  I mean seriously, what have you been using your phone for?

Then again, maybe I just hang around with sluts.