Go to Bread. Bed.

I'm, like, just dying to go to bed. But alas, the Dude threw clothes in the dryer. The dryer is right beside our bedroom and it dings incessantly for the last 10 minutes of its cycle. It's loud and maddening. So I wait. And for once my body is aching to sleep at a reasonable hour. Go figure.

Last night I had this massive allergy attack. My sinuses had left me in peace all through my honeymoon and as soon as I got home, WHAMO! Sneezing, wheezing and suffering. Nothing would help. I held off taking an allergy pill all day because they knock me out.

When I was ready for bed, I took a pill, only it wasn't an allergy pill. For some reason, in my stuffy stupor, I took a Gravol. Gravol is quite the sleeping pill for me, but it obviously does nothing to make the nose stop running, so I still had to take an allergy pill.

Both make my mouth dry. So I took a glass of water with me to bed, fell dead asleep and yet awoke every 40 minutes to quench aching, dry thirst. I'm not sure when I woke up this morning, but it was obscenely late. So frankly it's a damn miracle I'm even remotely sleepy.

A few things before I toddle off to bed and brave the loud dings:

- My burn has become a tan. I'm getting compliments on it, but all I can see is skin damage. I may be the one person alive who shuns getting a tan. I like them on other people, but I prefer my own skin milky. Looks nicer with the red hair I love so much.

- My kittens were upset we left them for a week. McPal's fiance came over to feed them while we were gone and on Friday he discovered a shit in the middle of the kitchen. Cats express themselves in very obvious ways.

- We're trying out a new grocery delivery service starting tomorrow. Yes, I work from home and grocery delivery is something we're going to try out. Why? Because. That's why.

- I am in desperate need of a trip to the hair salon. I have almost two inches of roots, and I can't find my tweezers and there's about four gray hairs I really need to pluck out.

That is all. Bed. Goodnight.

Sort of, kind of lucky maybe

There's nothing like a minor blackout to show you just how unprepared you are. The power cut out on me just as I was getting ready for a shower. Funny little fact about me: every time something amiss happens, my first instinct is that it's ghosts. Once I ascertained the outage was a run-of-the-mill inconvenience and not paranormal (This usually just requires me giving myself a reality check, because as it turns out I don't really think the way a normal person does) I hopped into the shower while I still had natural light and considered how I'd proceed if things stayed off.

I just bought four new books, and they would have been ample entertainment, if not for the fact I have no candles. I also own no flashlight and have no spare batteries anyway. The Dude is working late this evening on location out of town and so I'd essentially be sitting alone in the dark with nothing to do. I'd have about 2-3 hours of laptop battery life to occupy me in the evening and then... nothing. Probably I'd take a mild overdose of allergy meds so I could pass out for the night in the absence of anything to do, like a farm hand at the turn of the 19th century who had no reason to stay awake after dark. Only substitute hard work and a job well done, with some antihistamines in order to fall asleep at 9:00.

After my shower the power was back on and I didn't have to face the unpreparedness my years of Brownies and Guides had sought to cure in me when I was a child. A number of things tend to bite me in the ass in my life, but somehow a lack of attention to my personal security never seems to thwart me. Kind of like when I lose my purse, it's always where I left it in a store in the hands of someone who wanted to return it, or I get a call about it being found, complete with my wallet full of all my I.D. It's very lucky.

It's funny, though. In many ways I'm a remarkably unlucky person. One of the few times I ever won something was when I was in grade four and praying to the powers that be that I would not win. It was a school-wide draw in the gym and all 400 students were packed in, as names were chosen from a bucket. The more Christmas supplies you sold for fundraising, the more chances you had to win. You would go up and choose a prize and sit down.

I did not want to go first. I had no idea what was up there, I was shy and nervous and I didn't want anyone scrutinizing my selection as being a dumb choice. That was actually my primary concern. So of course I got called up first. I looked for the most expensive and least-likely thing to be made fun of, grabbed it and sat down. I chose a ghetto blaster. What a weird thing to type. Ghetto blaster? Well, anyway, that's what I picked.

I saw looks of envy and approval for my choice and felt a wave of calm that I wouldn't have to explain myself. Then after a handful more names, I got called again. The shock of having to go through another selection wasn't as bad as having to do it while the entire school booed me. I don't think it's really luck if you were desperate not to go first and all your peers drown you in boos. For the record, the second time I picked a stuffed animal, a dalmatian with a firefighter's hat. I didn't want to look greedy by choosing more electronics.

If there's ever somehow, for any reason, an inconvenient time to win the lottery, I should make sure I have a ticket. Yeah. I bet if I was on the lamb I could win.

Okay, before I do anything or say anything, this rocked my socks, and actually so does this woman's entire blog. Heartastic. My coworker (and former officemate) found it. I think only cat lovers would truly enjoy it.

I've been drinking a little more beer lately. I've also been getting a little puffy. Correlation? Yes. Fuck me. Why bother cultivate a taste for beer when I'll apparently also have to cultivate a taste for being the shape of a snowman? Also, the pecan pie and ice cream and bridal shower cake probably hasn't helped. But I'm pretty sure it's the beer. Yeah.

Anyway. I figure it'll be like the time I quit pop and dropped 5 pounds after college. Though I was drinking pop every day. I'd crack open a coke just because the class was taking a break and it seemed like the thing to do. I'm not drinking beer quite like that, which is probably for the best. No, I probably won't loose any noticeable poundage. But methinks the puffiness might subside.

On a side note, it sounds as though my apartment is arguing with itself. The walls keep creaking and things keep shuddering. I have no idea what that noise is. There have been renovations going on next door. Maybe our walls will cave in. I wonder if I'd get the day off.

This is sort of a stream of consciousness thing I'm doing. I have no real theme here. No coming of age musings, no happenings to report, no fond memories of old times past.

The Dude is laying on the couch beside me, sleeping away. He used to have problems sleeping. Not anymore. I don't know how he does it. He'll have a load of caffeine and then go to sleep, always around the same time. The one kind of cute thing is he doesn't like to go to bed unless I'm going too. So he falls asleep out here. The one exception is when he has to get up at something ungodly like 5:00 a.m. 5:00 shouldn't even exist.

But speaking of ungodly, I was watching Stephen Hawkings special about the universe the other night. It kind of made me realize just how much I don't believe in God anymore. I mean, the whole universe can be scientifically explained. Essentially, everything on this planet is because of stars, and stars are because of hydrogen gasses. Heh. I explained that like a child. But I suppose my mind may as well be a child's compared to Hawking's.

It's kind of a bummer. Here I am at nearly 2:00 a.m. writing about how I'm pretty sure there's no God. I used to think so. I dunno, maybe there is one, maybe some hydrogen god. Or maybe in some sort of dimension we can't perceive some sort of group of god-like beings developed and have been competing for followers ever since, like Twitter, only with people who go to war and stuff.

I just keep thinking. Every major religion, in the face of how the universe was created, seems a little foolish. I also can't help but think that if a god were really god, he or she (I'm inclined to think "she" what with the whole giving life part) or it wouldn't hang out with a few random people before the age of technology and rely on the longest game of telephone ever to spread the word. That's just inefficient. A god should know better.

I can see why people are religious, though. It's certainly a more simple and easy way to view the world. I mean, hell. You can figure that even if the world is highly disappointing and suffering for millions is endless, at least there's Heaven. I'll tell you, though. Without Heaven, thinking about the meaningless suffering of people who had the unfortunate luck to be born into AIDS and famine kind of makes you sick. I feel guilty now when I go to the movies because I'm spending $15 on pleasing myself and someone is dying because they have no food, and then not going to any happy place ever, just into the ground.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I'm just typing out my train of thought. Sometimes I'll sit at home in my bedroom and just think. Today I read this article in Psychology Today about introverts (I am one) and how they need to take time to regroup after socializing to process their thoughts. I've never mastered how to wait until I get home to do that. I start doing it while people are talking to me. I've exasperated so many people.

I like to observe new people for awhile before I really interact with them, particularly if it seems as though they may become a part of my life. Every now and then I'll get the sense I need to "perform well" with someone new, though, and I'll do my best not to shell up and go into observation mode. It's a monstrous effort.

I have so little filter and I know pretty much everyone who knows me thinks I'm odd, that I just don't feel comfortable unleashing the beast on people I don't know, and more importantly, who I can't gauge yet. The other day I was with some people I barely knew and I figured to hell with it, I'll just participate in the conversation. Well, I got weird looks, probably because I said strange things in strange ways to people who aren't oddball enthusiasts. And the aftermath of that awkwardness always makes me feel anxious because I know I've made a poor impression.

Okay. I should go to bed before this takes another turn. I wonder if typing any of this out will help me sleep.

Monty Python in real life

I'm off today, which is out of the norm for a Saturday. Normally I'd still be in my robe, sitting at my cramped desk, sipping cold tea and plugging away at some assignment. Not today. It's like a real proper weekend, the likes of which I've rarely seen since 2004.

So how does one spend a Saturday? A child would get up at the buttcrack of dawn and watch cartoons. A teenager would sleep in until 1:00 pm. A college student would nurse their hangover with fried breakfast.

Me? Well, I did have a hangover-- which I will get to later because Sweet Jeebs, was last night something else-- but nurse it I did not, pardon the Yoda talk. The Dude and I decided to go to the markets to purchase ingredients for a new meal he wants to make for our friend who's coming over tonight. And it made me very happy.

We went to a fruit market, a butcher and a bakery/deli. For the first time grocery shopping was fun. All this time I thought I hated it. But no. What I hate is supermarkets. Fiesta Farms was the best grocery store I've ever been to and I miss it, but even when I lived nearby, making myself go was a struggle in maturity ("I should go. *Whine* But I don't want to. But we're out of food... but I can order in! Yeah, I'm not going today. Fuck the grocery store.")

I'm soooo looking forward to tonight's meal.

Now, as to why I'm hungover, last evening I went out for dinner with a friend of mine, one of the men who so wonderfully helped me find my new couch. As he put it last night, we're in each other's top 10 friends (Not on Myspace or anything, just in our heads.)

We had some Thai food at my favourite Thai restaurant downtown and one of his friends joined us. My goodness, was this man a trip and a half. I find it too overwhelming to chronicle the evening, so I'll detail the night in point form:

• When he arrived he insisted he would not buy any food. He'd bicycled 7 km in about 4^oC and said if he saved $10 on a meal, he could give more to his charitable cause.
• My friend, whom I shall refer to as McPal, and I badgered him to eat, to eat at least from our meals, which were served family style. Finally he ordered his own tofu dish, claiming to be a new vegetarian. At which point he discussed our brutal choices of duck and chicken.
• He was the devil's advocate for every conversation topic. When I pointed out to him he was contrary, he said he was not. Then he realized the irony. And then I won a small point of satisfaction.
• He claimed to be a communist. I told him he'd get along with a quirky friend of a friend of mine named Stefan. He then made a Family Matters reference about Steve Urkel's cool machine.
• They asked me to come out for a drink and so I thought why not. We went to a pub and McPal wanted to split a pitcher with his friend. I ordered wine. The friend vetoed all the beers McPal wanted on the basis that he may not like these brands. He was wooed into going for it when it was argued that a pitcher was very economical. He said he was a fan of economics.
• He brought up sexual orientation out of the blue and suggested everyone was inherently bisexual. I said I didn't think so and that if you couldn't bear to put your face near the junk of the same or opposite sex, you were pretty well on one side of the fence. He said it was all conditioning. I then observed he was most likely a bisexual if he really thought all people could go either way. This was on my second glass of wine.
• At various points in the evening he mentioned "females" instead of girls or women. He said in his age group, they were neither one nor the other. He's 24.
• He silly-walked down the street like a Monty Python skit. Being 6'4", it was very John Cleese-esque. He then stopped to stretch against a tree.
  

Truly he was the strangest character I've ever met, and I know some weird-ass people. I liked him, but kind of the way I like egg nog. Really touch and go, that drink, and you have to be in the mood for it. I stayed for the second glass of wine purely out of fascination.