Babycakes, I love you

There have been many people in my life who have given me strength and support, through good times and bad. I love these people with all my heart and I am thankful for their constancy and stalwart strength with which I draw upon. There are many to mention, but for the purposes of this post, I will speak of one who speaks volumes and whom I am indebted to for life.

Anne-Marie (aka Annie) and I met back in 1999 while in Montreal during the Black & Blue Festival. We met through other mutual friends who now form a Core group of closely knit friends, that we fondly refer to as the Cottage Crew. Annie and I, quickly became friends. Her beautiful smile and warm heart drew me to her and we were instantly connected. I was 26 and finding my way in life and decided to move in with Annie and her other roommate in 2000. Their third roomie was leaving so I was filling in a gap. As we became closer, our relationship intensified and we spent all our time together. She was my Grace and I was her Will. We knew every intimate detail about each other and could understand each other without a word. Sometimes it was comical, and sometimes it was tragically dysfunctional, but our friendship was always infinite and absolute.

When I discovered my HIV status in June 2002, she was my rock. There are many others who were there as well, namely the Joy Luck Club whom I also am indebted to for life. That is another intensely personal relationship that I will have to save for another day. Annie was working for the Canadian Foundation for AIDS Research (CANFAR) at the time and the news hit her hard, but she still stood by me and allowed me to grieve and cry on her shoulder.

As time progressed we became even closer and it is now a relationship that I find difficult to express in words. There are no words that can do it justice. There is an understanding and a compassion there that we both share. I am her Monkey and she is my Babycakes. It will never change. It can only grow stronger.

Babycakes, I love you and will always be there for you as you have always been there for me.

An archaelogical expedition into long lost treasures of the Soul

I have never been one to cry during movies or at weddings. It was always very foreign to me and I often got nicknamed the Ice Queen for my lack of emotional display. Crying and open displays of vulnerability were not emotional wells that I dug into often, believing them to be irrational and weak. I tried at times to find that melancholic feeling that would make me cry, but it always seemed so artificial and I often wondered why it was that I could not feel, or more aptly, why I would not allow myself to feel.

After a lot of introspection and years of intensive self therapy, I have realised a lot of it has to do with my upbringing and having been raised in a family where I was my own source of solace and comfort. My parents raised me as best they could and to the best of their knowledge. There were no child-rearing handbooks at that time and some of the techniques of discipline which they dispensed would nowadays be looked upon with disdain. Some would have called it abuse. My father, who was the primary disciplinarian was thorough and very quick to anger. I certainly don't blame him for it, and have forgiven him for all and any trespasses. He was raised the same way, and he has come a long way in being a more fatherly figure. I love my parents deeply, but the emotional scars still run deep and it is a journey on my part to rid myself of the damage and pain that still resides in me. I am working towards that goal, and part of the journey is realising that I still associate feeling and emotional availability to vulnerability and to a difficult past. Over the years and over time, you build up a protective wall, and unchecked, that wall becomes menacing and prevents you from getting inside yourself. I have also realised that the pain and sorrow that we keep in ourselves become insidious and malignant, seeping into different aspects of your life without you even realising it. Like a cancer, it overtakes you and soon you lose site of the good and beautiful things that exist around you.

So on Friday, after an evening hanging-out with friends I went home and spent time with Rib Breaker. There was nothing unique or different about that evening, but suddenly I became acutely aware of my surroundings and where I was in my life. My personal history, my childhood, my hiv status and my future all loomed over me and it was overwhelming and I experienced a panic attack. I became dizzy and nauseous. My heart was racing and my breathing was laboured and I began to feel waves of emotions that I had never felt before. Rib Breaker took hold of me and held me tight, helping me breathe and telling me to relax and to let things go. He responded with such kindness and compassion, and suddenly the floodgates opened and I began to feel things that I had never allowed myself to feel before. I began to cry.

But it was no ordinary cry, for it was no ordinary moment.

The years of untouched emotional sediment began to come undone and the emotional sludge began to loosen. So much pain. So much hurt. So much unacknowledged emotional baggage began to release itself. The pain coursed through my body and I responded viscerally. My Soul began to weep and sob and I remember sobbing and screaming that it "hurts so much", and Rib breaker still stayed close telling me to "Let it Go". I released with such ferocity that my body convulsed and every ounce of energy that I had put into keeping that wall up, was let go.

Twenty or thirty minutes later the sobbing stopped and quiet fell in my exhaustion. I could barely move and the weight of my body pulled me into a deep sleep. Realising that a large part of that emotional barrier had been removed, was profoundly intimate and calming. When I woke the following morning, I felt different. There was a new sense of understanding in the knowledge that I HAD acknowledged my past and present and that there was a future for me. For many years I was always aware of myself, but rarely did I ever Acknowledge myself.

Without sounding like a new-age nut, I feel different. Things are even brighter than they were and the sensation and touch of my new found spirit is exciting. I can't describe it intelligibly, but I suppose it can be likened to an archaelogical expedition, where you are in search of a long lost treasure. I have found that well of emotion that I have hidden for so long and am now beginning to make peace with it.

Happy HNT: 4

I know this is a bit more risque than what I usually put up, but I thought it was cool without being overtly sexual. So here is my latest HNT contribution.

Busy week, so here is a photo update

Hi All,

I have been and will be terribly busy this week. If I do any blogging or commenting it will be at night or during the weekend. Since I don't have much time this week, I thought I'd share some new photos of my newly completed paintings, my new fish tank composition and of Kalyx (my dog). Hope you are all well and Happy Week to you all!

My 2 new paintings, with my new fish tank in front, on my new "old" 60's style credenza

My new fish tank

Kalyx sleeping like a baby

Kalyx sleeping on my bed and new sweater. She always does this, and has gotten into the habit of enjoying a well made bed.

Luckily she is cute. But getting the hair off my new sweater was a bit of a task.

The 2 Teddy's I bought Rib Breaker (Brown one smells like Chocolate which I gave him when he was sick).

Rib Breaker down with the Flu being comforted by Remi (the bear I gave him at Christmas)

Deciphering my fathers' message.

I just rang my father to tell him I had transferred some cash in to his account and this was our conversation:

(Phone ringing)
Dad: Yes.
Me: Whaa..? Hello?
Dad: Yes.
Me: Dad?
Dad: Yes.
Me: What are you doing? Why are you answering the phone like that?
Dad: Like what?
Me: What do you mean "Like What?" You just answered the phone by saying "Yes" instead of "Hello". Is this your new thing?
Dad: Yes.
Me: Dad, that's getting tiresome and annoying. Why are you doing that?
Dad: Because I don't know who you are.
Me: What do you mean you don't know who I am?
Dad (kissing teeth): Ay-ya, I don't know who you are when you call me and the phone is ringing. No caller I.D..
Me: Dad, you are progressively making less sense. Do I need to send a doctor over to check your head?
Dad: No. I am good. I just don't know who is calling.
Me (shaking head with frustration): So get caller I.D. I have no idea where you are going with this.
Dad: Ay- ya, I just don't like when people call and don't say anything.
Me: Dad, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about now. How can someone say something to you, when you haven't said "hello" first to initiate the call? You have totally lost me.
Dad: People call all the time and don't say anything. I hate it. So now I say "Yes."
Me (shaking head in frustration): Are you getting crank callers?
Dad: No, I just don't know who they are and they don't say anything.
Me: Wha...? Forget it. So this is not a joke? Your being serious?
Dad: Yes.

Rolling and Rollicking in Bed

I realise that in having written 2 blogs (consecutively) about stories involving Mary Jane, that I am beginning to sound a bit like Harold from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle. I'm honestly not quite that far yet. But since I'm now on the topic, I had mind as well share another story that occurred last night prior to bed.

I had gone to take my shower as per my nightly beauty ritual. Trust me, I look not only scary and freakish without hairspray, gel and contacts, but I am also the epitomy of a geeky looking F.O.B (Fresh Of the Boater) when I don't doll myself up to go out. One day, if I feel brave enough I will post a picture of the Before and After for you all to laugh at.

Anyhow, upon my return to the bedroom, Rib Breaker already had a rolled dessert for us to share. Our darling pooch, Kalyx was grunting at us as we giggled at her brazeness for taking it upon herself to jump into my bed. She is 14 years old, going on 15, and in her golden years she is realising that we are much more forgiving when it comes to breaking of the rules. As we smoked and watched Tele, we soon got into a tickling match with Rib Breaker being the Tickled, and I the Tickler. Rib Breaker doubly laughed and screamed for me to stop, but I was persistent, indicating that I was doing him a favour by releasing endorphins and making him happy. It wasn't long before both of us were laughing hysterically, which required a moments respite. Goofing off and acting like children takes a lot of energy and we were both out of breath.

A few minutes later I found myself trying to remember our topic of conversation just 5 minutes prior. If any of you fellow bloggers know anything about rolled desserts, you will also be familiar with sudden forgetfulness, or derailed thoughts. This is an anatomy of our conversation:

RB (looking at me quizzically): What are you doing?
Me (deep in thought): Umm, trying to remember something. What were we talking about a moment ago?
RB: When?
Me: Just a few minutes ago. We were laughing about something really hard a few minutes ago.
RB: Where?
Me: Duh! Here, obviously!
RB: I dunno. How long ago?
Me: Geez, I'm so fucked. I can't even remember what we were laughing about 5 minutes ago.
RB: Oh, you were tickling me!
Me (irritated) : No No... Just before that.
RB (giggling) : Oh, I don't remember anything before that!

(giggling and laughter ensues)

Thirty minutes later, we were ready for bed and were lying cuddled in each others arms. I admit I've never been much of a cuddler as I get very hot, very quickly and tend to move around a lot finding my exact positinon of comfort, but RB loves to cuddle, and that's good enough for me. Ten minutes into our cuddling, my mind had begun to wander and I again was wondering what it was that we were laughing about, when it finally hit me that the dog had been throwing us "Tude" for getting on the bed and taking up her precious space. This of course, sent me into convulsive giggling which apparently became contagious for RB. Sadly, it took both of us close to 20 mnutes to stop.

We can be such idiots at times, but I will tell you one thing, I'd rather be an idiot than boring and dour. Laughter truly is the best medicine and both RB and I approach our relationship in a rather childish and humourous way. It works well for us and I try not to take myself too seriously. Happiness and laughter seem to go hand-in-hand and I definitely love seeing him smile.

uggh

seems like i was not safe. finally caught up. uggh. sick. too tired to post. can't eat drnk think or type. stomach flu bites.

Cutesey Pukey Valentines

Being the shit disturber sort that I am, I decided to switch things around and up, on this whole Valentines business. So on Monday, I went and purchased a dozen yellow oceanic roses for Rib Breaker and took him out for a nice dinner. We both agreed that it was far better than going out on February 14, watching couples eat in crowded restaurants. It's really not my type of thing, nor is it his. Besides, in all the rush, I was rather paranoid that the restaraunt chefs would be in such a tizzy that the food would be half cooked and we'd get food poisoning.

So, in our casual style, we stayed in on Heart day and Rib Breaker decided he wanted to order pizza and watch Tele. After eating, Rib Breaker rolled a dessert for us which we promptly smoked. It had been a long arduous day and I wanted to wash away all memory of it, so I decided to jump in the shower. A few minutes later, as I was washing my hair, I heard Rib Breaker come in the washroom talking loudly. Peering through my suds, this was the following conversation:

RB (Talking on cellular speakerphone): ...Hey, it's me! I'm talking on the phone, but not sure if you can hear me cause I got this thing on Speakerphone. It's so cool. I just found it, but don't know how to turn it off.
Me: What? Are you talking to me?
RB (looking at me and grinning): ...And Epicurist and I were just wondering what you were up to this weekend and were thinking of going to....
Me (washing shampoo out): Who the Hell are you talking to? I'm taking a shower you know?

Of course I recieved no answer. Rib Breaker had already exited the bathroom, but reappeared an instant later and comes up to the shower door and peers in grinning at me.

Me: Huh? What's up? Who were you talking to?
RB (opening shower door a bit): Oh, it was Scott.
Me: And?
RB (opening door wider and slowly getting into shower): Oh, I just wanted to call and say hi and I found the Speaker phone thing on the cell, which is really cool, but I'm not sure I did it right. You didn't tell me you could do that!
Me: I guess I forgot about the feature. Anyhow, so what is he up to?
RB: Oh, I was asking him if he wanted to go that Hotel club thingie that you mentioned last time. What's the place called?
Me: Umm, the Gladstone?
RB: Yeah! That's it. I was asking him if he wanted to do that sometime.
Me: Ok. And what did he say?
RB: Oh, I dunno yet. It was his voicemail, so I was leaving a message.
Me: And you had to come into the bathroom while I was showering to tell him that?
RB (grinning sheepishly): Oh, I guess I was kinda telling you too.
Me (stopping and looking at RB oddly): Ok....ummm. What are you doing?
RB: What?
Me: Well, you're just standing there at the end of the tub. Did you come in here to take a shower or just to tell me about the speakerphone and phonecall?
RB (looking around sheepishly and laughing): Oh...umm...just to talk to you.
Me: Sometimes, you are just too damned cute. Do you know that?

Honestly, it's these small quirky things that he does that makes me love him even more. Unfortunately, the cuteness wore off at 2am when Rib Breaker started to get violently ill, throwing up and running to the porcelain throne. We're not clear if it's food poisoning or the Stomach flu, but the poor boy had his head in the toilet most of the evening with me by his side. It wasn't the Valentines Day I had planned, and I'm tired from lack of sleep, so I am taking my leave now. Gotta go home to rub my boys tummy.

P.S. I am really busy at work right now so just want all you beautiful souls to know that I haven't forsaken or forgotten you. I hope to catch up on reading posts over the week or weekend. Cheers!

Baking, Toking & Technology

Last night after dinner, Rib Breaker and I decided to smoke a joint, relax and make some "brownies". The tele was on, and I was watching American Idol, as Rib Breaker did all the work in the kitchen. To be honest, I'm not much of a baker, so I leave that to him. I just take advantage of the wholesome delicious goods that he bakes.


As he was puttering about the kitchen he was also tinkering with his new/old phone. A good friend of Rib Breakers just got a new Motorola Razr phone, so he decided to give Rib Breaker his old Motorloa V555. The cell phone, is still quite new and has all the new fandangled toys on it like a camera and multimedia stuff. Rib Breaker being the technical neophyte that he is, has been playing with it and trying to figure it out. Not to add injury to insult, but whenever I give him a technical toy to play with he reminds me of my dog Kalyx, trying to figure out how to get a cookie out of a jar. It just isn't natural for him, but he gets great enjoyment out of it, and always boasts gleefully once he's figured out the connundrum. Anyhow, Rib Breaker decided to make a call to my friend who he was sharing the brownies with and needed the phone number. This was the conversation that followed:

Me: It's 555-1234
RB (after some fumbling): Um, ok. But I want to add him to my phonebook, so wait one sec.
Me: Uh huh.
RB (with raised eyebrow): Ok, I'm in the phonebook. It says Name.
Me: Yeah? So, put in his name.
RB (keying in name, while mocking my sarcasm): "Yeah..so put in his name.." nah naah naaah naaah.
ME: Well, you ask stupid questions, you get a stupid response. Did you put his name in?
RB (smiling and giggling at phone): Oh cool, this phone will suggest names and words for you.
Me (rolling eyes): Um, yeah, really cool. You might want to know he spells his name with a G and not a J.
RB: Crap. I gotta erase and change it.
Me: Are you done yet? You've already taken 5 minutes just to enter his first name.
RB: Shuddup! It's asking for his last name.
Me: It's spelled Xxxxxxx.
RB (Keying in name): Ok. Done. It's asking me to record a Voice Name. What's that?
Me: You record his name in your voice. It's a feature on the phone, where you just say the name and it will call the person, but I never really use it. It'll take you forever to set it up, I bet.
RB: Oh Cool. Should I use his full name?
Me: Whatever tickles your fancy Rib Breaker.
RB (into phone): "George"*
RB (into phone): "Yes"
RB (into phone): "Yes!"
RB (into phone): "No!"
RB (pouting): It's not recording it properly.
Me: Turn the TV off and try it again. Maybe it's the background noise.
RB (puts tele on mute and speaks into phone loudly): "Geooorrgge"
RB (into phone): "YES"
RB (into phone): "YES!!"
RB (into phone): "NO!"
RB: It's still not working!
Me: Will you just say the name normally? You don't have to stress every letter and syllable unless you plan on saying his name like that ALL the time.
RB (into phone): "GEORGE!"
RB (into phone): "YES!"
RB (into phone): "YES!!!"
RB (into phone): "For Fucksake, NOOOOO!"
RB (into phone): "GEORGE"
RB (into phone): "YES!!"
RB (into phone): "YES!!"
RB (into phone): "Fuck, finally, YES!!"

I tried to keep a straight face but it was just way too funny. I honestly need to record these events on camera, so that I can do the moment justice.

* Identities have been protected.

The brownies by the way are delicious.

The Taste of Love

Last night, as we were preparing for bed, Rib Breaker decided to pump up his chest and declare that he was now stronger than me. He's been working out, and apparently has this lofty idea that it has made a difference. This escalated and led to a childish wrestling match where I won (as per usual), but in retaliation Rib Breaker decided to bite me. Since, I was on top of him, I threw the blanket off of him and bit him on his arse...little did I know that he had left a fragrant surprise under the covers for me, which clung to my face and taste buds.

We laughed hysterically, but trust me my blogger friends, revenge will be even sweeter tonight!

Tagged: 4 things

I've been tagged again, this time by Wanton Wonton.

Four Jobs You've Had In Your Life
1. Landscaper.
2. Convenience Store clerk.
3. Peer Counsellor for GBLT people in University.
4. Technical Support for Cable Internet

Four Movies You Could Watch Over And Over
1. Pretty Woman
2. Joy luck club
3. Finding Nemo
4. The Breakfast Club

Four Places You've Lived
1. Taipei, Taiwan
2. North York, Ontario
3. Toronto, Ontario
4. Oakridges, Ontario

Four TV Shows You Love To Watch
1. Rick Mercer's Report
2. The Block
3. Roughcuts (documentary)
4. Passionate Eye (documentary

Four Places You've Been On Vacation
1. Europe
2. China
3. All over USA
4. Montreal

Four Blogs You Visit Daily
1. Bellyache with the Sister
2. Dantallion
3. Tornwordo
4. Snooze
*Note I read a lot more, but they ask for 4, so don't get angry if I didn't mention ya.

Four Of Your Favourite Foods
1. Hakka Food
2. Vietnames Pho
3. Chinese
4. Any home cooked rustic food

Four Places You'd Rather Be
1. An island in the Pacific
2. A beach in the Pacific
3. Muskoka
4. somewhere warm

Four Albums You Can't Live Without
1. Beach House: Hed Kandi
2. Freedom Sessions: Sarah McLachlan
3. Parachutes: Coldplay
4. Siamese Dream: Smashing Pumpkins

Four Vehicles You've Owned
1. none, I walk, run, bike or use the Better Way

Four People To Be Tagged
None. Whoever wishes to do it, may.

Bush & Bin Laden Post referral

If you have some time, and want to read an absolutely BRILLIANT post and argument about Bush and Bin Laden, go visit Andy's site.

Another careful Voter turnout

So, only 60% of the voting public made it to the Polls, and the result is we have a new political party. It goes without saying that these will be interesting times indeed. With all the scandals and bad press about the Liberals I am not surprised that the New Conservative Party has won. The Liberals just couldn't get away from it, and there were far more swing voters this year.

Also, with the Liberal defeat, it does not surprise me that Paul Martin will be leaving his position as leader of the party (Opposition). His time is up, and he has made his mark, and I give him kudos for realising this and leaving the position open for someone new. Whoever is chosen to lead the Liberals, I am sure it will make for good tv. But with another minority government, I am happily skeptical in the potential power and influence the Harper government will have. I am sure Stephen Harper is tossing in his sleep, trying to figure out how he intends to pass any Conservative policies in the House of Commons, with a minority government. All 3 parties have a fair share of the seats in the House, Liberals obviously hold the higher hand, but I won't underestimate the Bloc Quebecois or the NDP. A lot of the Liberal policies went through during their minority term, but I only believe that to be the case, because we Canadians tend to be more moderate and further left on the Political spectrum. The voters have chosen Harper by a marginal lead, and the message they are telling Harper is that they don't want to see too many right-Wing Conservative agendas. I forsee a lot of political wrangling, and as I said, it will be interesting.

The last 12 years of Liberal government has seen the political landscape change quite dramatically. Who would have thought the strong shift towards Conservativism in Quebec and the loss of Bloc Quebecois seats? It stands to reason, that a fair majority of the country is looking for change and they have done so democratically by voting a minority Conservative government. In my conversations with people, it isn't so much that they have switched their political alignment to that of the Conservatives, but are rather telling the Liberals that they need to regroup, clean up their act, and then come back and prove themselves to the country.

As they say, trust is built up over years but dissolved in seconds.

The people of Canada need some time to reflect and frankly so do the Liberals. I just wonder how long Harper will remain in power and if he will actually be able to push through any of his Conservative (sic Right wing) agendas. I highly doubt it with the strength of the Opposition. The one scary thing that I have realised during this election, is that Harper has somehow fooled those normally resilient and card carrying Liberals to vote for the Conservatives. How did Harper do that? Well, it seems that Harper has blended into the "red" and made his party seem less offensively Right wing, by silencing certain members and by cleaning up his his public persona and language. He has blended his party into the mainstream middle and has therefore appealed to many who don't think he is that much a threat. If you ask me, he is still a lion in sheeps clothing and I will be watching carefully.

HNT Trois - Half Nekkid Thursdays

I know I am not being very original or artistic, but I've been busy, so this is all I got kids. And yes, that's my bedroom. ;-p



Happy HNT!

Flashbacks:
HNT 1
HNT Deux

An Ode to my brother

I was reading the glorious and ever enchanting mistress Ms. Bees Knees' Ode to her sister, when I began to reminisce about my experiences of being a younger child. My older brother was one of those siblings that was an unending source of torture when we were kids. If you think my sense of humour tends to fall in the twisted realm, believe me, it was only the result of being deprived any sanity by my older brother.

When we were very young, we shared a room - two twin beds separated by a night stand. Somehow, prior to bedtime, my brother got into the habit of farting ever so delicately on my pillow and placing my blanket back over, locking the offending scent into my pillow. Unknowingly I would jump into bed, face first into the pillow only to rise choking, wretching and scratching at my face. My brother would laugh himself silly. This of course would only instigate me to find something worse to do unto him. We would each resort to farting on pillows, placing lego and cars underneath the sheets so that we would bruise upon jumping on the bed. Never did it ever occur to us to not jump on the bed.

Needless to say, we always had bruises and cuts on our bodies.

Coming up with new and inventive ways to hurt or drive me crazy was my brothers ultimate goal. One Christmas, we went as a family to Florida Key West and stayed in a rented apartment. He and I again had to share a room, separated by a nightstand. As the lights went out, he began to pick his nose with a certain ferociousness, all the time telling me so. He then made an exaggerated flicking sound with his finger. Of course I screamed like a banshie for him to leave me alone, when all of a sudden I felt a large wet splat on my face. Stumbling out of bed, voice shrill, I turned the light on to find a very large dime sized booger dripping down my face.

This is what I lived with and despite the horrors of it, we always laughed, because we were sick little fuckers. These days we just compare how stinky our farts are, and I use what my sage older brother taught me to torture RB and others.

Federal Elections: Politicians doing what they do best

I have been catching up on some reading and was at Dantallion's site and read this post. The whole Federal Election discussion got me to thinking about all the finger pointing and general amnesia people have when it comes to scandals in this country. I always find it rather amusing when MPs or the press, or society continuously bring up the Liberal scandals. Yes, some members of the Liberal party faltered, but if the slaggers really want to play that game, we can dredge up a whole lot of scandals in the Conservative party from years ago:

1873 corruption scandal brought down the Conservative government of Sir John A. Macdonald and cost Canada's first prime minister the 1874 election. He was accused of accepting $350, 000 in donations from Sir Hugh Allan, in return for giving him the contract to build the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR).

1958-61: The Gerda Munsinger scandal, where the Canadian public learned that some guilty Progressive Conservative cabinet ministers had been consorting with an East German playgirl who may have been a KGB spy.

1985: TunaGate, where Fisheries minister John Fraser had overturned an order from his own inspectors and ordered a million cans of StarKist tuna released for sale to the public. The inspectors had said the tuna, packed at the StarKist plant in St. Andrews, N.B., was so badly spoiled that it wasn't even fit to be turned into catfood. The plant's owners had lobbied Fraser to release the cans for sale, saying they might shut the plant if the tuna couldn't be sold. Needless, to say, that Starkist plant was shutdown. Fraser went on to become the House Speaker.

1995: 14 Conservative members of the Legislature and 2 caucus workers were convicted of fraud and breach of trust for illegally diverting hundreds of thousands of dollars from government allowances in a phoney expense-claim scam.

1995: Airbus scandal involving Mulroney.

Let's also not forget, that Mulroney lost an average of one cabinet minister to allegations of wrongdoing during each year of his 1984-1993 reign.

It truly is amazing how soon we forget, isn't it? Next year, everything will be forgotten again and a whole new slurry of scandals will plague either one of the parties, and each will sit upon their Porcelain throne and point fingers, noses in the air, pretending as though their shit didn't stink. Everyone shits, and everyone has to wipe their ass. I just don't need to see it on my paper everyday.

New Year Late Update

I know, I know. I have been absent for far too long. With the holidays and the new year over, I plan on getting back on track with the blogging. So here is a quick low-down on my holiday highlights:

• December 24 am - wallet, money and brand spanking new blackberry 8700r stolen out of my jacket. Scramble to cancel all cards and services, which poses a major problem cause I have done zilch in the realm of Christmas gift shopping. Merry fucking Christmas to the Asshole who stole it. Your ass is grass if I ever figure who you are...I have connections you know, so you better be smart.
  
• Onto better things, I am working on a project which I will soon unveil to you all in a short bit. It has been an Idea of mine for quite some time, but I just haven't got around to actualising it and making it a reality. Once I have it out, I would love your input, suggestions and ideas. Expect something by end of week. :)
• January 6-8, 2005 - Flew to NYC (last minute) for my cousins wedding. Wedding reception was lovely and simple and drank a lot with her crazy friends. Didn't do any shopping which I was hoping for, but I did get to slip out at 1am after the Wedding reception to meet up with Life. by Jase and his friend. They were 2 of the sweetest most entertaining Fags I have ever met. We went to Starlighte for some casual drinks and chat, and I was soon dragged to a dance bar (Jase, you will have to remind me of the name: Was far too inebriated to recall, but know "Boys" was in the name). Jase never quite told me he was a Go-Go Dancer or that he swing from a Pole (ahem). He certainly has a lithe, tight body made for sliding up and down Poles, so I'd suggest you call him up if your ever in NYC. Again, a big Thank You for being so hospitable to this Canuck. Even with my severe hangover the following morning, I didn't regret a moment.
• Now I am back to the Grind at work, but expect pictures to be posted soon from NYC.
  

Bob Geldof and The Boomtown Rats got it right...

It goes without saying that Monday mornings are anathema to my idea of happy living. In fact, I would think most people don't like Mondays. It falls in the same category as a hangover, or diahrrea. Honestly, they could remove the whole day and I would have no issue with it, but that of course would make Tuesdays, The Monday - and we simply can't have that, so I guess I'll just have to live with it.

I know. I know. "What is the point of this random chatter?" you wonder. Well this past Monday I had a pre-arranged appointment to see my Gastroenterologist for a procedure called a sigmoidoscopy. For those unwilling, or too lazy to click the provided link, it's when they stick a camera up your arse to view the lower end of your bowel (the sigmoid). Plain and simple as that. End of story.

Not a pleasant experience.

Even further unpleasant, when done at 8:15 am on a cold Monday morning, sans caffeine, coffee or food.

I arrive at the hospital and get to the designated room, and am assigned a gurney, gown and a washroom. I am sharing the room with 2 other patients, whom both share a rather unpleasant look on their faces.

They too must hate Monday mornings.

The nurses and technicians, I must say were phenomenal and very friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly. Patricia (Pat) introduces herself to me and tells me she needs to perform 2 enemas on me, the whole time with a smile across her sweet face. My Monday is not looking any brighter and I tell her I am not looking forward to having this procedure done. She assures me that it won't be too painful, just a bit uncomfortable, and proceeds to open a casual dialogue with me:

Pat: So dear, do you go by Alex, or Alexander?

Me: Um, Alex will be fine, thanks.

Pat: Dear, I need you to lie on your side with your bum bum facing me.

Sound of a box opening.

Me: Hmm....I thought I had the worse part of this procedure.

Latex glove slaps on.

Pat (laughing): And will you be celebrating the Holdays at all this year Alex?

Sound of bottle being shaken.

Me: Um, yeah. With family on the 24th, 25th. Friends the other days.

Sound of Surgical lube squishing.

Pat: Oh that's nice. And does your mum make the traditional dinner?

Feeling a cold breeze on my "bum bum" as she lifts my gown.

Me: No, the boys usually do all the cooking.

Pat: Oh that is what I like to hear! What wonderful boys you must be...Ok, Alex, here goes.

I can't really explain what the feeling is like. A rush of cold air or ice cubes being shoved up your arse is the closest I can get to it. After all the preparation work, and a few runs to the loo, I am pushed on my gurney into the examination room. While in the examination room, my doctor and her assistant pulled out the nefarious looking endoscope and proceeded to turn me towards the monitor so that I could watch my own sigmoidoscopy examination. This experience was even worse than the enema, and I was watching the whole damned thing on a monitor. The process includes filling you up with air and water so that you bloat up and feel like your having menstrual or gas cramps.

Again, NOT a pleasant feeling.

Seeing your innards was quite the experience, and if someone ever calls me a shit disturber, I'll have more than a few words to say.

P.S. Apparently, I am fine and have a "beautiful sigmoid". Her words not mine. All I could think was, I hope she doesn't use pick up lines....ever.

Anatomy of a wrong SMS

Sunday, I was helping move one of my best friends to her new place. It was a lot of work, so at the end of the evening, we sat down to several bottles of wine and good ol Popeye's chicken. In the midst of the drinking I get an SMS (Short Messaging Service) also known as a Text message on my Blackberry.

Hi Ryan, Just wanted to say I had a really great time the other night, and if Brad asks, go ahead and tell him. I'd rather him know than find out from other sources. I am really looking forward to picking up from where we left off wink wink. Paula

Me: Hi Paula, I am glad you had a great time and would like to pick up where we left off. What a sweet girl you are to message me. You obviously are a load of fun, but unfortunately you have the wrong number and I am not Ryan. He must have been hot though for you to send this message, but you ought to know you messaged the wrong fella.

Paula: Oh my god. I am so sorry. Who is this?

Me: Someone who gets that you had an AWESOME time, but who unfortunately is not Ryan, and who also happens to be as Queer as a three dollar bill. Though from your message, Ryan sounds like a very good catch. Good boys are hard to come by, so I wish you luck. Message when you want babes! ;P

Paula: LOL Yes, Ryan is really hot and cute. I will let you know what happens. Any tips? Thanks!

Me: Good on ya Paula! Have fun and enjoy the boy. But always remember it takes a good woman to make a real man. LOL

Paula: Really? I suppose you would know, or at least are a Master/mistress at it?

Me: You're a smart girl Paula. lol Have a great night and good luck!