Labels: misc

Labels: misc

• Each player creates a list of eight random personal facts/habits.
• At the end of your post, list eight people who you want to tag to also do this meme.
• People who are tagged will post these rules and write their own list of eight personal facts/habits.

Eight of Savia's Personal Facts/Habits:

• I will pick lunch over breakfast or brunch any day. I don't get the obsession with breakfast food.
• I force myself to eat olives. Why do I force myself? Because I feel like I should like them, being Italian and all, and maybe if I keep eating them, eventually my taste buds will come around. Hey, it worked for feta cheese and red wine.
• I have 23 litres of red wine (Barolo, in case you were wondering - a "big, bold Italian", I'm told) brewing in my basement. It's my fourth batch of wine to date. No one has gone blind yet.
• I hate spring.
• The path is shifting beneath my feet and I'm not entirely sure where I'm going these days.
• I am addicted to accessories and shiny things.
• Superstar left his Indonesian didgeridoo lodged in my couch when he went home. This is not a euphemism. Though I suppose it could be.
• The next few months are going to be really tough, and I wish they were over already. But I guess you don't get to appreciate the good stuff unless you drag your way through the crap, right?

Now for the taggie good times. I only have five, so hopefully the meme gods won't hunt me down and do naughty things to me (though that could be fun...):

• cenobyte
• i am the diva
• musically speaking
• orpheus
• soul gardening

Labels: meme

Labels: superstar

Labels: Schmutzie

And the nominees are:

• dry heaving


• crying jags


• cold sweats


• racing heart


• intestinal loveliness


• dry mouth


• shaking


• insomnia

In case you were wondering, here's the freakish dog. (She just got a haircut!)

Actually, she's kind of looking a bit like a stripper in that pose, what with all the exposed naughty bits. What a whore. It's too bad the hookers are gone - she'd fit right in.

But you know what's good for stress? Besides hookers? Really awesome friends. I got the best email from Musically Speaking today that said, among other things:

Don't worry, things will be alright. By the way, have you ever noticed how we always say "running around like a crazy person"? I was just thinking...every crazy person I know sits still and barely talks. Ahhhhhh, doesn't that sound divine? To just sit with your thoughts and reflect on life and things you feel like pondering about...sign me up for the next round of crazy!!! I hope you're doing ok, and know you're very very loved!

Perspective is such a lovely thing. I really wish I had more of it and didn't let things like work get to me. It's difficult when you really care about what you do and want to make sure it's done really well, yet you don't have the (pick one: time/resources/energy/insert other reason here) to make it what it could be. And when you know that this product is going to be a reflection of you and people are going to judge you on its success or lack thereof. It's hard not to get wrapped up in that, you know?

Tomorrow will be a better day - I can feel it.

Because you know what else is good for stress?

This time tomorrow, Superstar will be in my arms, and let me tell you, that guy is getting Ninja Fucked.*

I'm going to give those hookers a run for their money, I am.

*Extra points to anyone who can tell me which obscure Canadian film this is from.

Labels: stress, superstar

• The white trash neighbours with the baby who get drunk and scream at each other all the time and who also own two very large, unruly dogs that attacked my dog the week they moved in and that also won't shut the fuck up with the barking (like owner, like animal, I suppose);
• The neighbourhood watch army dude who actually goes around catching thugs who are trying to break into houses and sits on them until the cops come;
• The hell's @ngel who tends to a very lovely vegetable garden every summer that no one ever fucks with;
• The vigilante dude who once threw a hammer at a thug trying to steal things off his car and actually hit said thug in the back of the head but didn't end up catching him. He should have called neighbourhood watch army dude;
• My best friend's ex-boyfriend and his new wife. (I had bought this house to live down the block from Marlena. Too bad shortly after I moved in, they split and he got the house);
• Deadbeat house builder dude who started building a brand-new house at the end of the block and then didn't bother finishing it, and now it's a magnet for vandalism and unruly HoodLite urchin children. I wouldn't be surprised if someone torched the thing;
• HoodLite urchin children who are far too young to be running up and down the street by themselves, especially so close to the train tracks;
• And me, the gal who doesn't believe in watering her lawn and who looks forward to that beautiful day in mid-to-late summer when it dies and she no longer has to mow it.

When you have an eclectic collection like that, what's a few hookers? I thought. Plus, I really like saying the word "hookers." It has a good sound to it. Hookers, hookers, hookers. Woo hoo. If they're around, that means I can say it A LOT. How fun is that?

But my neighbour reminded me that there are a lot of kids who walk through the alleys on their way home from a nearby recreational facility. If there are girls 10, 11, 12 walking at night and smarmy men are driving around looking for hookers and decide to try and pick them up...

That image makes me feel ill.

So, now we are trying to figure out a nice way to let the hookers know that they can't stick around in HoodLite, if they are even here. My neighbour was thinking we should all walk around at night until they get the hint. For some reason, this puts the thought into my head of us marching around the block banging pots and pans with wooden spoons. I have no idea why, but that sounds kind of fun.

Hookers, hookers, hookers.

Labels: HoodLite