Maybe if I knew what a craw is I could tell you what was up it.

Shall I sum up? Okay.

Last month I went rollerskating for the first time in about ten years. Blading, I should say. I went rollerblading. With my friend and my sister. At Oaks Park. Why am I typing. Like this?

Afterward, we stopped at the Rimsky-Korsakoffee House, which I won't even try to explain. You have to go and experience it for yourself.

Last month I also went to my very first hockey meet up, which I'd only found out about a few days beforehand. (And yes, there is an app for that.) We met at the 4th Down sports bar in SE Portland; I took the train and met my friend R there, for backup. We watched the Blackhawks game on three giant screen TVs and ate tater tots. I had a great time. The guy who organized it is really nice and a Red Wings fan (from Michigan). In fact, the majority of us are Wing fans. Go figure. Anyway, not a lot of people showed up, but that's fine. It was the first meet up.

Halloween weekend, I went to my friend's cd release party and had my very first whiskey. My friend Aed and her boyfriend drove, otherwise I wouldn't have had any. Afterward, we went to Potato Champion. At least, that was the plan. We had Whiffies (fried pies) instead and OMG WERE THEY GOOD.

The next night, Sis and I went to my friend's brother's house for a Kids in the Hall marathon. We brought the pilot episode and all five seasons (and a bag of crazy core Skittles) and got down to business. There were three kids there, ranging in ages from 12 to 3 (I think), but V and her brother weren't that much older when they first started watching the Kids, so we let them join us. Long story short, there is now a whole new generation of head crushers in the Portland area. They're not even my kids and yet, I'm so proud.

Anyway, it was great to finally watch the Kids in the Hall with people who actually loved them as much as we do. I haven't laughed that hard in a long, long time. I think we got through the pilot and Season One, and then had to call it a night (but not before J told us about the booger bed and innertubing). On the way home, we passed something called Assurety Northwest, which I read as Assery Northwest. My sister read it, out loud, as "Ass, you ready?" Incidentally, at that very moment, my sister and I had been discussing felching, nasal anal and how Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley can do stuff together that still allows them to technically remain virgins.

I shit you not.

Needless to say, we're going to have to go back for another marathon or five.

This past weekend (Saturday), I went to the second hockey meet up, this time at a place on Hawthorne. Again, I met my friend R there. This time it was the Red Wings vs Vancouver. More people showed up this time, but still not as many as RSVP'd. The Wings lost, but there is talk of meeting up for the Winterhawks game on the 20th. When the organizer told me about that, I told him about the firefighters. Normally, they play at the Mt View Ice Arena in Vancouver, but they're having a charity game on November 20th to benefit the son of one of the firefighters. For $13 you get in to the charity game at 2pm (at the Memorial), and the ticket is also good for the 'Hawks vs Kamloops game at 7pm. R said she would do both and take me out to the bars afterward , and the meet up organizer sounded like he was pretty interested as well. I'll post some info about it in a couple of days, when I have time.

At any rate, I've got to get ready for work.

Dead air.

I suppose I'm long overdue for an update. I just never have the time or give-a-damn.

In June, I went to Multnomah Falls for the first time. I've been here almost ten years; isn't that sad? Last month I photographed a friend/co-worker's son's birthday party at Oaks Park. (First time there as well.) I also spent the weekend at (another) friend/co-worker's cabin on the coast -- this was the end of the month. It was me, V and three of her non-work friends, plus another co-worker who stopped by for a few hours.

I have a lot more to say but no time to say it. Here are some photos instead. Oh, speaking of which: I'm going to have ten of my stupid iPhone photos up at a some gallery in Portland sometime in the near future (me and 15 others). I should probably have some sort of emotional response to this, but at this moment in time I couldn't possibly care less. 90% of that is because I hate digital photography and don't feel like my iPhone photos are "worth" anything other than an amusing diversion while I'm on the train or whatever.

Oaks Park:
[The Kid]'s birthday cake:


One of the rides:


Me and Chipper, the Oaks Parks mascot (photo by Sis):


Rockaway Beach
Elk---


Twin Rocks


It's not just a clever name --


The gang


Taking the party down to the beach for a fire. My job was to walk Ike. Inside my backpack: three cameras and a baggie full of Stormtroopers.


Warming our toes.


Foxglove


My shoes got a little wet.




/end.

Happy Father's Day

Wherever I am, you'll always be more than just a memory.

JFB
June 1941 - May 13, 1990

Twenty years ago today, I dragged myself out of bed and called my best friend to see if she wanted to go to Walgreens with me. It was Mother's Day, and I wanted to get my mom a card and some candy. She showed up a few minutes later and we headed out. It was only a mile or so to the store, but it was already hot out and I was on crutches.

We bought our cards and candy and headed back home. We hadn't gotten very far when my mom and sister pulled up in our station wagon. We piled into the back and as we drove along, my mom said, "I'm worried about your dad. I haven't seen him yet today."

My dad had been laid off from the trucking company where he worked as a dispatcher, and had been doing odd jobs for friends to make a little extra money. My mom was working in the deli at the local Jewel as well as part time at a nearby print shop.

I don't remember a lot of what happened that afternoon, but when we got back to our house, my mom asked our friend if she would call her father and ask him to come over. They lived two houses down, so he was at our door in less than a minute. Mom sent the three of us (me, Sis and TK) out the back door and told us to wait there.

This is where it gets fuzzy. I remember saying in my head over and over, "I'll do anything, just please don't let him be dead," and I paced around on my crutches. None of us spoke. At some point I remember hearing my mom screaming "No!" over and over and over again. The next thing I remember is TK's mom coming over and walking us over to their house. I remember an ambulance pulling up and the lights weren't flashing. We waited there for what seemed like an eternity, and then my mom was at the front door. Sis and I walked out to the porch and my Auntie Reenie was there, along with several other of my dad's siblings. Deep down, I knew. I saw my sister sit down on the step and start crying, and I still refused to acknowledge it. I looked down at my mom who was standing on the front walk. "What?" I asked her. Her eyes were red. She looked up at me and said, "Your daddy is gone."

The rest of that day is a blur. We went back to the house and Sis and I sat in the kitchen while people poured in. The pastor from our church came to see if we were ok. My Auntie Mickey couldn't stop crying. She just stood there, repeatedly tucking my hair behind my ears and saying, "You girls are so beautiful. Your daddy was so proud of you. So proud." My mom gave us each half a valium, so I wasn't feeling much. I couldn't understand how I was going to go on with my life knowing I'd never see my father again. We went and stayed with my Auntie Sylvia that night. I had a doctors appointment the next day, and after that I think I remember going to pick out a casket.

The wake and funeral were the worst part. I had been to a few funerals in my childhood and though they had been hard, they were nothing compared to attending one for my own father. I didn't want to see him there. I didn't want to remember him that way. I wanted to remember him smiling, the way he would clap his hands when he laughed.

Twenty years is such a long time. I still don't know it's possible. I was 16 years old when he died. He has now been gone from my life longer than he was in it. I sometimes feel like I barely knew him. He was my best friend. He was the one person in my life who was always straight with me, no matter what. He was a quiet man with a wicked sense of humor. All my life, I never heard him say a bad word about anyone (except Molly Ringwald. He hated her.). He was my anchor. Whenever things got bad, he was always there to keep me safe.

For reasons I won't get into here, I stopped talking to my father two weeks before he died. The last conversation I remember having with him was about Star Trek. We were watching a TNG episode in which Data gets shut off (or something) and Brent Spiner fell over without blinking or wincing or anything, and my dad kept going on and on about what a great actor he was for pulling that off. That's all I remember. He was wearing jeans with a hole in the left knee and a light blue shirt with white stripes.

I never went to bed at night without telling my dad I loved him. I stopped when I got mad at him, and sometime in the early morning on Mother's Day in 1990, my dad passed away in his sleep. He died alone, in the dark, thinking I hated him. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say I'm sorry. He would have wanted me to forgive myself a long time ago, but I can't see that I ever will. I don't deserve forgiveness.

On days like this, I believe I would trade every good thing in my life just to have him here for one minute. That's all I would need to make things right. I'll never get that chance and until the day I die, I'll believe I am owed every shitty thing that happens to me because I turned my back on someone I loved. I haven't gone back home in ten years. Haven't seen his grave. I don't believe in heaven or hell, that there is any part of him left under that cold grey stone. But I still found comfort there. I would sit in the grass with the sun on my face and talk to him. I'd tell him everything I needed to and it would help for a while.

I got a card in the mail yesterday. It was from the mother of a good friend of mine who died six years ago last month. (I send her a card every year on his birthday and for when he died.) Inside the card were two pictures of her son (who was like a brother to me) and a note that said, "Thank you for the lovely card. It's such a comforting feeling that I'm not alone remembering that day."

That's the worst part, I think. Being alone. After my dad died, my mom, sis and I just sort of retreated to our own corners. It was not the right way to deal with what had happened, but that's what we did. I'm still retreating to this day. I have a hard time telling people when something is bothering me, or when I need help. When I break down, I go somewhere where no one will see me. But what I wouldn't give for a card. Just a note that says: You are not alone.

It's hard for me to write all of this and will be even harder to post it. Twenty years is a long time to live with this loss. I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's not worth it. Things can change in the blink of an eye, and you don't get a second chance. If you've got something to say to someone, say it. If you're angry at someone, don't shut them out. The silence is unbearable.

Bad Day at Black Rock

I'm on the train to work, watching the city lights twinkle along the Willamette river, hoping no one can tell I'm crying.

I've been having the worst panic attack of my life for the last seven hours. It's never been this bad before and I'm freaking out.

I suspect there are a few reasons for this, one of which being the impending "anniversary" of the death of the man I considered my brother. i'd give anything to hear him laugh one more time.

I don't know how I'm going to get through the next eight hours.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Happy Zombie Jesus Day.

I'm not religious and I don't eat eggs, meat or dairy, so this is just another Sunday to me. I'm up at my mom's (because she does celebrate this stuff), farting around with iMovie. Here's what I've come up with so far:

It was hard picking the music for this. I almost went with "God's Gonna Cut You Down."

Still waiting on Stone #2, but I'm going to call my doctor tomorrow and see about getting another CAT scan. I'm sick of sitting at home, not working. It seems silly to me that I feel fine now but am not allowed to go back to work. So I'm going to call tomorrow and see about getting a work release.

Stonewatch 2010

Just went to see my doctor. I gave her Stone #1, and she said she would contact the ER for a copy of my CAT scan. After reviewing it, she may refer me to a urologist, which I believe I was supposed to call one after I got out of the ER. Yay for ADD.

So no work for me. It's driving me nuts.

Oh and I have to go pick up drops for the pink eye. My doctor just looked at me and said, "You poor thing. Kidney stones are bad enough on their own!"

So that's that.

Doc is sending my stone off to be analyzed. Will be interesting to find out what kind it is and how to NEVER GET THEM EVER AGAIN.

Firefighter hockey tonight, but I can't go unless someone drives me. I have no friends, so there goes that.

Tonight's gave seven versus Spokane will determine whether or not the Winterhawks move on to Round Two. Fingers, toes and kidney stones crossed.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Kidney stones: about as cool as honeymoon hand jobs.

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My peeps.

As usual, I don't have time for a proper update. I just wanted to say that birthdays aren't really a "YAY!" event for me, and I was dreading it this year. But then my friends at work surprised me with yummies and, when I slept too late for the Winterhawks game, Aed went to 3D black light pirate mini golf with me and Sis instead and then took us out to dinner.

Yesterday, I received a gift that ... I can't even begin to explain how much it meant to me. My friend Ed sent me some DVDs. Big deal, right? Well, he sent me Chicago Archives: Best of Chicago Television.

After I wrote to thank him, he told me that our friend Andy, when making him a copy, suggested he make one for me as well, if only for the Chicago Blackhawks footage. Bozo's Circus, Garfield Goose & Friends, Creature Features (!!!!fave!!!!), Riverview, the Chicago Blackhawks, Lake Shore Drive footage (back when it was still actually Lake Shore Drive) -- the music made me cry, Svengoolie, Captain Kangaroo, Son of Svengoolie, Dispensa's Kiddie Kingdom and much, much more. If you didn't grow up in Chicago, this means nothing to you, but it means everything to me. I love living in the Northwest, but I miss home. A lot. .

There's more! Ed also sent me four more Svengoolie episodes!

1. Captain America
   
2. Death Race 2000
   
3. Revenge of the Zombies
   
4. Night of the Living Dead

I almost shit my pants. ZOMBIES. Ed had no idea how much I love zombies, yet there they were! I can't wait to watch. I'm going to bring my mom over and play the Chicago DVD for her. She'll be so excited to see Riverview.

In closing, my friends are wonderful. Thanks, guys. I love you.

Confutatis maledictis, voca me cum benedictis.

Yesterday, I took my sister to see The Boondock Saints on the big screen. It got a very, very limited release (five theaters) ten years ago. I saw it in 2000 when I was in Florida with my ma. I rented it, on VHS, at Blockbuster and it quickly became one of my favorite movies ever.

Anyway, they re-released it (one night only) for the 10th anniversary, and I made damn sure my sister and I had tickets.

It was playing in two theaters: one in Portland, one in Beaverton. I chose the Beaverton one (though I hate Beaverton with the white hot fire of a thousand suns) because I figured it would be less crowded. When we got there, the place was packed.

It was a great crowd, though. Seemed like there were a lot of fans there, quoting the movie and cheering in all the right spots. The sound went out right before the weapons scene and almost immediately, a guy yelled out, “I’ll have a Coke, then.” I guess you had to have been there (and also seen the movie); it was pretty damn funny. Then people kept yelling out, “Get some rope!” Heh.

After the end credits, they ran a retrospective with interviews and clips/behind the scenes from the sequel. It was interesting, but mostly blah. I think a lot of that has to do with Julie Benz and Clifton Collins Jr. or whoever the fuck he is. I haven’t seen the sequel yet and it has everything to do with them. I’d never seen or heard of Junior before this movie, but I’ve seen Benz in a few things and I fucking hate her. Not her personally; I’m sure she’s nice and all. I just can’t fucking stand her as an “actor.” She sucks out loud. She sucked in her one episode of Supernatural, she sucked in whatever Buffy episodes she was in (I fucking hate that show, too. I watched most of the first season because a couple of friends asked me to give it a chance; I’m still itchy from it.), but she wasn’t half bad in Dexter.

From what I’ve seen of the trailer, it seems like they brought in Benz and Junior to replace Smecker and Rocco, which ... no. Add characters for their own sake, not because you want to the sequel to match the first movie ALMOST EXACTLY. It’s fucking stupid.

I’m still going to watch the sequel someday. I’ll probably have to eat a bunch of Tums beforehand.

The interviews were mostly good, pretty much just most of the guys sitting around, drinking beer and talking about the movies. I was disappointed not to see Detective Alapopskalius.

More to say, no time to say it. Deja vu? I still have to write about 3D black light pirate mini golf, don’t I?

Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll be seeing K.M.R.I.A. Right now, I've got to see someone about a five dollar haircut. Though I like having my hair long again, it's been over a year since I've had it cut, and I'm starting to look a bit homeless.

Testing?

I finally figured out how to add another blog to this iBlogger application I've got on my phone.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the words "blog" and "app"? I want to download the DeLorean app, go back in time and kill the hipster asshole who coined the terms. No. I'll go back to the beginning and sterilize his ancestors.

Mom, sis and I went to dinner at EXTREME PIZZA tonight. They didn't have Red Bull on tap, but they did have a giant TV with downhill skiing on a loop.

Ma had a coupon, so we basically got one giant veggie pizza, one small pestotato (?!) pizza and two pops for ten bucks. Good food but I could barely choke down a single slice.

More to say but not here. I'll save this APP for when I'm bored on the train to work tomorrow night. I'll keep you all updated on how many tweakers get on in the free zones, ask me for money and then jump off right before we hit the pay zone again.

Right now, it's time for yoga.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

We're saved.

Can you smell the sarcasm?

I had my yearly review on Monday. I got the highest "marks" the lab boss would allow. In other words, my supervisor wanted to give me a four but the big boss assured her that three was sufficient ("really, really, really good employee"). Whatever. As long as my direct supervisor is happy with my performance, that's all that matters. I got a raise, too. It doesn't make a dent, but I guess it's better than nothing. I got praised for maintaining eye contact when we have staff meetings, which kind of threw me. My whole life I've had trouble looking people in the eye, not because I'm shifty but because I'm afraid of what I'll see in their expression. I've felt like a freak my entire life, and I don't want people to see that and judge me. I know. I have issues. Eh, there was other stuff, how I always get to work a half hour early and I hit the floor ready to work. In summary, I'm awesome but I'll never get paid accordingly because the economy and the giant corporation I work for SUCK.

Some of the girls brought food to work last night as an early birthday treat (for me). Rene got Voodoo Doughnuts for dessert. There were two vegan ones in there, which I took home for me and my sister.

I'm hoping to get tickets to the Winterhawks game tomorrow. I thought I heard about a deal where, if you go to the box office on game day, you can get two tickets for $16, plus a hat. I'm all over that shit. That is, unless I dreamed it. They're going to announce the rookie of the year and MVP, etc. tomorrow night. I think either Chris Francis or Nino should get the MVP, but what do I know?

I'm in a horrible mood. I need to call my therapist but I can't bring myself to waste $50 when I know I need to get Curly Joe's liver meds (which are $80) in a couple of days. I feel bad enough wasting money on hockey tickets, but it's my birthday on Sunday and all I want is to see one Hawks game. I haven't been to any this year, if memory serves. It usually doesn't.

Rise again, little fighter

Come on. It's a good song.

I missed out on just slightly less than 100% of the Olympics this year,which just about killed me. I fucking love the Olympics. Especially the winter Olympics. I got to watch some skiing and some skating, but no hockey. I take that back, I caught the last five minutes of Canada's game against ... someone. I forget who. I didn't get to see Sweden or Russia or even Team USA, though I did get The Game recorded on DVR. Have yet to watch it.

So I made sure to get up early (for a night shifter) and watch the gold medal game. Sadly, the US went home with silver, but that's nothing to fucking sniff at. I know virtually nothing about hockey (the puck goes in the goal, right?), but I know our boys played their little hearts out, and I'm proud of them.

Speaking of proud, the Winterhawks did well tonight with a 3 - 2 win over the Prince George Cougars. Series sweep, anyone? I'm excited about Friday's game, for no particular reason. I haven't been to a Hawks game since early December. I'm hoping to drag my friend J along. She's not a nut like me, but she's from Florida and has been to her fair share of Lightning games. It'll be interesting to see what she thinks of the WHL.

It's no secret that I hate digital photography and its whore mistress, PhotoShop. I realize it's hypocritcal for me to say this because I use a digital camera. However. I use digital for the shit I don't really care about (or for the shit I'm now allowed to use real cameras for, such as hockey games). I've taken some really cool digital shots that I don't give two shits about because they're easy. But I digress. I was browsing an anti-digital group on Flickr tonight. Someone was complaining about the museum mode on digital cameras and here's what someone had to say about it:

I guess what bothers me is that cameras are becoming as submental asmicrowave ovens. Press "beverage" to heat up your coffee; press "museum mode" if you want to shoot a snap inside MOMA. In my mind, photography is supposed to be a craft. You don't dumb down a craft.

YOU DON'T DUMB DOWN A CRAFT. Thank you.

That's all I'm gonna say about that.

I had a nightmare about Tank the other night. It was doubly horrible in that my father was there, too. Not that that's a bad thing. It's just that when I wake up, I miss him that much more.

Anyway, I forgot most of the dream, but I'd come home (to our house in Chicago) and my sister told me Tank had gotten out of the yard, and when they tracked him down, they found him dead in the field. They'd put his body downstairs, so I ran down to see him. He was mostly covered in blankets and when I knelt down beside him, I saw that he was shaking. He kept shaking and shaking and eventually woke up and came over to put his head on my shoulder. When I woke up, I was completely freaked out that there was something horribly wrong with my dog.

Ech. I hate dreams. Been having a lot of night terrors lately, too. That hasn't happened in a long time.

This afternoon I decided to start the Couch-to-5k running program again. I've only gotten as far as Week 3, but I was really dedicated and ran three days a week without fail. Then shit happened and I stopped working out six days a week and turned into a schlub. Ahem. So I was running around the block, listening to the Cto5k application on my iPhone (you can use your own music) when I got a text from a friend:

"thny gotta quit givin me weed man'
i have a golf ball size nuggie that keeps trying to engage me in conversation."

It's actually pretty hard to run and laugh at the same time.

And now for something completely different: a swinging chicken.

Most of the time when I'm walking the line, I'm looking at the ground

I haven't shot black and white in a while, so I brought my camera along a few weeks ago when my car died and I had to start taking the train to work. They came out a lot better than I expected, and I'm actually sort of proud of them.

This one's my favorite.


Portland airport.


Self portrait (eating oatmeal at work).




Children shouldn't play with dead things. (Creepy doll at an antique store in Silverton.)

I'm excited about finishing up the roll in my Nikkormat; I took pictures when we went to Slappy Cakes last month. The Stormtroopers came along.

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.

I took the Max to work every day but one this past week. Wednesday morning, I hurried to the train; not because I was running late but because I wanted the exercise. It was dark and I didn't see that the sidewalk buckled. I was going pretty fast when my shoe caught on the cement and I flew forward. I landed on my knees and hands. As I fell forward (slamming my chin into the ground), my glasses flew off my face and my water bottle sailed overhead, landing about ten feet away. Then my backpack hit me in the back of the head. My first concern was that I'd broken my glasses. Fortunately, they were fine. I made it to the station in time to catch my train, but on the ride home, my knees started to ache and I realized I'd scraped up my palms pretty good. When I got home, I was in a lot of pain. When I took off my clothes to get ready for bed, I saw this:

I hit the ground hard enough that that happened, despite the fact that I was wearing long johns underneath my jeans.

I woke up the next morning in excrutiating pain. My chest felt like I'd been doing push-ups all night, something in my right knee kept shifting as I walked, and I couldn't (and still can't) lift my left arm without horrible, icky pain. My sister thinks I may have torn something and insisted that I call my doctor. Unfortunately, she can't see me until Tuesday. So I'm mainlining Alieve, even though it doesn't really help.

Thursday morning my sister and I had some Legal Things to take care of. I'm not going to go into specifics because it's not my story to tell, but the outcome was not in our favor and it has devestated my family. By the time I limped into work Thursday night, I had been awake for almost 30 hours. We were short staffed because one of my co-workers was on vacation, so there was no way I could go home. My supervisor let me leave early, at 4:30, just in time to catch the first train out of Portland. Unfortunately, Tri-Met got their online schedule wrong, and I waited in the freezing rain and wind for over 20 minutes. When I got home, I got on my phone and downloaded a free application called PDX Bus. Very helpful.

Lunesta is doing better. The other morning she jumped out of the chicken hospital cubby we made for her and demanded to be let outside to join her feathered family. She's been running around with them ever since. We're still keeping a close eye on her, though.

The geese and ducks have decided to start laying their eggs on the front porch. Thanks?

Thursday night when I got into work and drank my third cup of coffee (total, in 35 years) in order to stay awake, the lab manager walked in and told me she was teaching her baby to breakdance. Then she told me that her husband had invited me to play D&D with him and his buddies. I was surprised -- because that is my usual reaction when someone expresses an interest in spending time with me -- and excited. I haven't gamed in .... shit .... 15 years? Longer? My mom used to fly out to Florida for a week or two to visit my grandma, and my (then) boyfriend and his friends would come over. We would spend the entire time gaming, playing cards and eating pizza. If it was winter, we would get the sleds out of my garage, jump into our cars and drive to Kasey Meadow to go sledding (or to this suicidally steep hill behind a church). We would have sled wars in which we would pair up on sleds and then race down the hill while trying to knock each other off our sleds. Totally sober, too. Good, clean fun. I used to sleep on the floor with my sister and my boyfriend's buddies while my boyfriend slept in my room because he was a big girl's blouse.

Anyway, gaming was fun. Probably still is. I had some of the best times of my life during those campaigns. I miss that. So I'm happy to have been invited, though the thought of walking into a house full of strange men makes me want to shit my pants and die. I'm shy, is what I'm saying. I do know one of the guys, though. He worked as a tech the first week I started at the lab. He was filling in for the lab supervisor, who was on maternity leave at the time. Cool guy. They mostly game at his house, though sometimes they meet at K's house. I'm hoping to end up at one of those games because then I can play LEGO Guitar Hero with K afterwards.

Did I mention? I GOT MY JERSEY.

Yes, my face really does look like that. I was cursed by a gypsy.

I should have asked for a medium, but I apparently have body image issues and still think I'm tremendously fat. I reckon I could return it for a smaller size but I won't. I don't care if it's huge. I can pretend it'll fit over actual hockey gear someday.

I haven't watched any Olympic hockey, but I've got the big USA game recorded on DVR. I'll be watching the game on Sunday, though.

Aw, KGW just played a brief interview with Ryan Malone!

The Winterhawks are playing the Spokane Chiefs this Friday. My (and my sister's) birthday is on the 7th, so I'm planning on going to Friday's game. As a present to myself. Cam Neely is going to be at tomorrow's game. He was a Hawk for the 1982-83 season and got the hat trick that won them the Memorial Cup for the first time in the team's history. I can't afford to go to both games, though, so Friday it is. Hopefully.

One of my co-workers keeps saying she's going to bring me a piece of vegan chocolate cake for my birthday, but I hope she doesn't. I don't "like" it when people to nice things for me. I find it hard to accept, mostly because I'm not used to it.

Well, I'm going to cut this short (haha) and go to bed and try to get away from this pain.

Vitamin D. What's the "D" stand for? "DAMN, I got a lot of sun yesterday!"

My mom is returning from Florida next week. Right now, I'm up at her house, hanging out with her cats and doing laundry. She has three cats. Mr. Willoughby is high strung, but he enjoys my company and lets me pet him now and again. Flea hates me with the white hot fire of a thousand suns. Mary, too. I have no idea why Flea hates me, but he really, really cannot stand me. I don't mean that he's standoffish. I mean that, when I walk into the room, he openly loathes me. I can see it in his eyes. He'll just give me this look of utter disdain. I can't figure it out.

But I digress.

I got four hours of sleep yesterday so that I could get up early and enjoy the fucking sunshine for a change. It was sunny and in the upper 50s. I got up before or at 10:00 (I forget) and took the dogs out to play in the yard.

KILL! KILL! KILL!




Trilogy of Terror


My baby boy!


I feel like you're eyeballin' me, dawg! I don't like punk bitches eyeballin' me! You got beef? You got beef? You want some of this?

Then my sister and I went out and ran a few errands, which mostly involved returning a shitload of pop cans so we could buy food. I get paid Friday, but I'm going to take the train to work this week to save on gas. I can't afford to put $10 in right now.

If you'll check to the right, you'll see that I've entered a picture of Tank as part of a photography contest to benefit the Human Society's Spay Day 2010. Vote for him, won't you? I also put up photos of Jackson, Curly Joe, Freddie and my boy Luke, who died of cancer several years ago. Vote for them as well and I'll love you forever. Or at least as much as my cold, dead heart is able to.

I've hit the 40 lb mark in weight loss, so I bought a belt yesterday. Unfortunately, I misjudged my gut and selected the wrong size. I'll have to return it today for a smaller one.

I could swear I had something interesting to say, but I guess I must've dreamed it.

The Firefighters are playing the Battle Ground Boys this Wednesday, and I'm planning on going. It's free and sort of on the way to work, so why not?

The Winterhawks are playing the Prince George Cougars on Sunday. I would very much like to go to there. A friend of mine plays on two mens league teams, and she's got a couple of games coming up as well. I have yet to see her play, and I've hesitated asking about it because I only know her from the internet hockey world, though she lives about 10 minutes away (and was nice enough to record some Wings games onto DVD for me last year); I didn't want to be all stalkery. I finally asked and she let me know which teams she was on and linked me to their schedules. Woo!

Ok. Shutting it down.

Chicken nurse

One of our chickens, Lunesta, hasn't been feeling well. We're pretty sure she is (or was) egg bound, so we brought her inside, made a little nest for her in the cubby where we set up our cats' drinking fountain and fed her lots of yummy food and privacy. She has started to perk up and is looking better, but tomorrow we're going to find a bird vet to take her to, just in case. If an egg broke inside of her, she could get an infection. I can't really afford to treat a sick chicken, but my sis and I will be damned if we'll let anything happen to her while we just sit by and watch.

This morning, at my sister's urging, I soaked Lunesta in a pot of warm water, to get all the crap off of her bloomers. She really fowled up that water, har har. Afterwards, I dried her off (as much as one can dry off a feathered being), wrapped her in a towel and sat in front of the fire to watch Golden Girls. I'm 98% sure I heard her laugh when Dorothy called Stan a barf bag.

'I have work tonight and tomorrow night, and I'm up three hours past my bedtime. Why am I so mean to myself? At least I did yoga, though.

I got e-mail from Andrew, one of the folks from the Forgotten Miracle site. He put my jersey in the mail today! It's unnumbered because he didn't want me to have to wait six weeks for it. Squeeee!

In related news: February 16th was my two year hockeyversary. That's right, two years ago that I saw my first NHL game at the Ice Palace in Tampa. The Bolts vs the Caps. The Bolts lost the game but hockey won my heart.

After the game, we wandered around town and were accosted by some pirates. Tampa's fake pirate festival was going on, you see. I wanted to take a picture of this snockered pirate and when Indi went over to ask him if I could, he made her and Acie post for a picture with him. While this was going on, a sea wench (what do you call a female pirate?) came over and put some beads around my neck. And I didn't even have to flash my boobs! Wrong town? Oh, well.

Eleven days later, I saw my second game - Bolts vs Wild. Again, the Bolts lost, but I had the pleasure of being there for Mike Smith's first night as netminder for the Tampa Bay Lightning. I felt bad for him, standing out there in his Dallas pads. I hate Dallas, btw. Stars, Cowboys, fuck 'em all.

I had a lot more to say, but I really need to get my fat ass up to bed. Wake me up at 5:30, okay?