Prattle on
Saturday, May 07, 2005

So, I just had such a lovely day. This morning I caught up with some friends on the phone, spent some quality time with the obese cat, and drank coffee in every room of the house. Then Vijay made my afternoon with a surprise visit. We got some Vietnamese take-out and ate on the deck.

I love the deck, especially now that the weather is nice. I also love my neighbourhood. Everyone is out to play and says 'hi' when you walk by. Like Kensington Market, but most people are speaking Portuguese and it lacks that loathsome neo-hippy element.

I don't know if I have ever mentioned my neighbour Avril before. Probably not because I never see her during the winter and early spring and you know, out of sight... Anyway, she's in her 80's and a pretty cool old woman especially when you look past the crazy, or accept that she is crazy. Avril is originally from a small southern Ontario town called Chatham and is a descended of the first runaway African American slaves who made it to Canada via the Underground Railroad. She's interesting to talk to.

Recently GRC and I noticed that she often sits on her front porch with this random hot guy. He must be a care worker or something (I'd be asking for a sponge bath or a medicated rub down-down or something) but whoever he is Avril is only too pleased to chat with him over a cup of tea.

Today, while she was standing at the end of her walk-way, as she does, I thought I would introduce Vijay, as he's a good looking guy and Avril loves an attractive man. They exchanged pleasantries. Then, as I noticed she had her walker with her and looked to be headed down the lane-way I say to her "You gonna get some exercise, Avril?" and she answered "Yes, but, I'd rather be getting my SEXercise!"

Friday, May 06, 2005
DAMN, Secrets From Your Sister just called me at home to tell me that they have two new bras for me to look at. TWO NEW BRAS! How many bras am I supposed to buy? I'm only one human woman person. I'm not made of stone! Why do they tempt me like this? Why, Miss Anon, Why?

So, last night I went to Gypsy Co-op again with two of my friends. One of them had something like 6 vodka sodas. WOW. I had three gin martinis with two olives. Damn a martini is a good drink. The waitress really liked us and she remembered me from last time. Then after my first martini she started to put four olives in it. FOUR olives! Awesome. It was like my own special appetizer, although I had them all through the meal. That’s a total of ten olives. But, my vodka soda friend, Drunkie McDrunkard, ate one of them. Bitch.

I know what you are all wondering, and yes, I did manage to steal candy. The last time I was there I liberated an Easter Cream Egg, a candy necklace, a pack of Fun Dip, Chocolate cigarettes they SUCKED), fizz candies and a rig pop for my best friend because she was too busy to hang out with us. Last night I held back. I only stole another package of Fun Dip and some Popeye candy sticks. They used to be called Popeye Cigarettes and they had a red tip. But, alas that is now a ‘no no’. I was telling my intern about how easy it is to steal candy from Gypsy Co-op and then we reminisced a little about how fun candy was candy when we were kids. We both remembered the candy cigarettes that you could blow sugar dust out of so it looked like we were really smoking. However, she reminded me of the gum that mimicked chewing tobacco. There is no WAY that product remained on the shelf.

Man, those were the days.

So, did anyone ask the advice dude for advice? He can help you.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
So, this is my Tight, White, Ultimate Low-Rise, See-Through Pants Update:

I went to Caupera last night and I refused to wear the tight, white, ultimate low rise, see through pants. I wore a nice pair of respectable dark blue, three-quarter length, wide-leg pants with a reasonable rise. They are very cute, and I look cute in them. No one said anything. It’s a good thing. My white pants were dirty. Will I wear the pants next week? Probably.

In class last night there was another guy there who looked good in the pants. His name is Louie, or Mark or Enrique or something like that, one of those names. Anyway, it’s not important. He also looks great in the pants. How do I love him? Let me count the ways. OK, there is only one way. I love him in the white pants.

On a completely different note:

So, my friend has an anonymous advice blog: and I was thinking about the art of giving advice (to those of you who know the person behind that advice blog, please do not post his name here). It’s complicated and not because you need an advanced degree in psychotherapy. You need to know exactly what they are asking, and what information they are leaving out. Really, you know that you are not getting the whole story. For example, you tell your best friend that your boyfriend is bad in bed, but you leave out that you’re freaky. Or, you tell your mom that your ex won’t leave you alone, but you don’t mention that you spend two nights a week at his condo listening to old soul records while drinking scotch naked in his bath tub. When we keep these secrets it renders the advice null and void. We do this partially because we know what our friend/mom/sister will say and because if we admit that we are doing things that we know ain’t right, we have to actually face the problem. No one wants to do that. This is where the advice blog comes in handy. When you are ready to really face the issue, send my man a question. No names, no secrets, no mercy. He’ll tell you the truth as he sees it. So will the people who posts comments. Just don’t leave anything out. We like the juicy bits!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
So, last night, during the Amazing Race commercial breaks I crafted a beautiful vanilla soy milk smoothie. So tasty. Smoothies are some of my favourite tings to make. This time I used Banana, strawberry and cinnamon. Sometimes I put in blue berries and if I’m feeling a little crazy – peanut butter. Currently I’m considering adding walnut to the smoothie. They are a soft nut that, I think, would blend up nice.

Wednesday’s are tricky for food because I have Capuera at 6:30pm and I have to be careful what and when I eat, because, frankly, if I eat too late, or too much, or something that is too heavy, I’ll see it again, know what I’m sayin’. No one should do cartwheels on a full stomach.

Capuera is good, but I may decide to quit. The work out is good, the people are fun, most of the instructors are good, but the issue I have with it is this: White Pants. It is a requirement that I wear white pants in class. See, I wore white pants for years in Taekwon-Do. Big white pants are not a real problem. However, Capuera requires tight white pants. And leave it to the Brazilians to make sure those tight white pants are of the ultimate low rise persuasion. That’s right, ultimate low rise tight white pants. Does this seem wise to anyone other than a Brazilian? When you are my colour (I like to think of my skin as golden honey), tight white ultimate low rise pants are an especially bad idea. You can see my skin right through them. I don’t want to wear see through pants (see through shirts, on the other hand…). And I have yet to find a pair of panties that are not plainly visible through them. Due to my golden honey skin, even white panties are out of the question. And you can forget about wearing lace. It’s an under ware dilemma.

Don’t even get me started on how the tight, white, ultimate low-rise, see through pants look on me. It’s special. You think the camera adds ten pounds... My Capuera group is full of women with awesome bodies. Not one of them looks half-way decent in these pants. None of the finely sculpted men do either. The only man who looks good in these pants is this super fit Brazilian guy, and his ass must have been hand crafted by Zeus himself, because really it should be cast in bronze.

Anyway, I have three weeks to make this decision. What to do, what to do.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
So, my mom is 58 years old. Last night at my aunt’s 65th birthday party she tells this joke:

What did the egg say to the boiling water?

“Don’t expect me to get hard, I’ve just been laid.”

Ladies and gentlemen, my mom!
Monday, May 02, 2005
So, I was at the gym this morning like a good girl running on the treadmill, workin’ the matt pumpin’ some iron and listening to the running CD GRC made for me. It’s pretty good. There are some classic tracks. But I think I need something new for the up-coming summer. Also, as I run faster and longer, I’ll need songs with the appropriate pace. So, people, feel free to make some suggestions for my brand new running CD. Please choose songs that are at least as fast as “She’s a Maniac” by Hall and Oats or “Holdin’ Out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler. I know those songs are kind of ridiculous, but let me tell you that there is little in this world more satisfying than running on the treadmill with the burning passion of Bonnie Tyler racing through your brain. So, please people come up with some good songs. Something I can sing to (Beyoncee sings while running on the treadmill, so can I). God DAMN that “She’s a Maniac” is a great song to run to!

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