In honour of this special day, I would like to present ULH-Ku:
Mind the doorway, son
Balance is not your strong suit.
Nicks on face, many
Happy Birthday Jeffy!
* Lucky Spinster was kind enough to point out that the "Four Score" I had originally put would make my Former PNB 74 years old. Older men are OK, but... um... yeah. I am so SMRT.
I'm in limbo at work right now. Not quite ready to assume my new job, as the person is still here for another 2 weeks and not doing my old one, as the gal has returned from her maternity leave. That means that I have been shunted to this little mini side office-cubicle thingie that seems to be the graveyard for unwanted chairs AND way-past-their-prime computers... I am typing on a 386 at this very moment, or at least something very close to it. I never realized until just now, what a multi-tasker I was with the fancy Samsung with Windows XP flat screen dealies. At any given time, I would be blogging, working on my social life (ick, lava), having 2 different conversations on MSN, be writing 4 e-mails in Outlook and have 6 different Excel spreadsheets open... all at the same time. Now, I can barely have 2 programs running at the same time before it will tell me to close something due to lack of available memory. As soon as our IT guy comes in, I am going to demand a newer hard drive thingamagiggy... and a new mouse. Those wheely do-dads for scrolling are an absolute necessity.
I will phrase my request thusly:
Dude, since having been issued this computer, I have found that my work productivity has been called into question. Under normal circumstances, I am more than happy to fit work in amongst my other daily activities, such as chatting online, entertaining my peeps, and trying to meet the man of my dreams. However, these important tasks have become virtually impossible to accomplish ALONGSIDE my work obligations, and seeing as how I work to live and not live to work, I have had to make some choices. I am sure that you would agree that the powers that be would not be overly enthusiastic with said choices, as they involve little to no actual contribution to the organization. So, I.T. Dude, you have 2 choices... Either I get a newer, faster computer where I can accomplish everything that I need to do in a given 7 hour work day OR I keep this computer, therefore accepting no responsibility for the non-goal accomplishing work days that are sure to follow.
So, yes, a good time was had by all. Getting out of the city was brilliant. I never once thought about work, even though big changes were in store for me this week. I likely would have spent all weekend obsessing over it had I remained in Smogsville. We met a couple of characters, but mostly spent the weekend quietly amongst ourselves. The weather was great and I have just a few little insect bites to show for my weekend of roughing it. And when I say roughing it, I mean that I had to walk at LEAST 20 steps to get the the flushing toilet. How I survived, I do not know.
The goings-ons themselves were very mellow; nothing to really write about here. I'm sure we've all heard the saying "What happens in Bon Echo, stays in Bon Echo"... but I did learn lots from my weekend in the wilds of Ontario, some of which I would like to share with you know if I may.
1) A chipmunk rummaging around the outside at your tent at 4 o'clock in the morning WILL scare the bejesus out of you.
2) If you find a bag of bagels in your campsite when you wake up in the morning, it is NOT a gift from the park wardens. This is especially the case if said bag of bagels has holes in it and half the bagels have been munched on by some sort of critter.
3) Firewood has the intellectual capacity to be insolent.
4) Fireflies are freaking cool!
5) Cooking scrambled eggs without butter in the pan makes for very difficult cleaning afterwards.
6) I like to swim in lakes.
7) I do not like the feeling of bug spray on my skin.
8) Kayaking is the bomb.
9) Birds wake up really, really early.
10) 2 bags of ice is NOT enough for an entire weekend of camping. This in turn led to#s:
11) For best results, keep frozen hamburgers in frozen state. And:
12) Warm Green Apple ciders just do NOT taste the same as cold ones.
13) 2 nights away from home is not a long enough time away for my cat to miss me and be happy to see me, but IS long enough for her to be little Miss Bitchy McAttitude upon my return.
For further information regarding this camping trip, please refer to The Roomie's posting on this matter.
Bea's going camping!!! And she's very excited.
I'm still under the weather but am going to make the best of it. I'll just do what I did last week at our party and mask the symptoms and general feeling of crappiness with lots and lots of booze. Oddly enough, I felt better the day after drinking straight for 7 hours than I had all week. I'm going to follow that logic this weekend.
It's been ages since I have camped. Even longer since I have camped in the wilderness. The last bout of camping I did was on the small island I grew up on, and it usually entailed camping in this little campground called Mouat's Provincial Park. You know your province is hurting for provincial parks when they designate a small parcel of land immediately adjacent to the town.
Shoot, we ran out of hots dogs, toilet paper AND vodka... I'll be back in five minutes.
Actually, often times, while my friends were "camping" in this psuedo-wilderness environment, I would just head to my folks' place and sleep in a comfy bed. Yep, Bea knows how to rough it!
OK, so I sound like a princess, but in truth, sailing in my Dad's sailboat through the Gulf Islands was a bigger draw than heading out to the wilds of BC. Nothing is more fun than putting your uber right-wing conservative friends together with your conspiracy theory spewing socialist Father in the tightest quarters possible. When tensions run high because your Dad has accused your best friends of ruining the country with their evil capitalistic ideals, there is really no where to go to escape this. True, one could walk 30 feet to the and pout on the bowsprit...
Now THAT is roughing it!
We went out for lunch today and the topic of the sex of the baby came up. It's too early to tell, but they should be able to find out in a few weeks. I asked him what he wanted, a boy or a girl?
He said that he really wants a girl. Why?
He wants a little version of his beautiful wife.
True love is alive and well in Toronto.
We bitched about not being included in the Live 8 roster, so they included us at the last minute. And when we finally get included in this global history making once in a lifetime, don't we feel good about ourselves now event, we bitch about how crappy the line-up is; how it is filled with a bunch of has-beens. I am not impressed.
Alright, so I won't lie and say that my first reaction upon hearing that the likes of Gordon Lightfoot and Bruce Cockburn would be there was that of serious excitement. I would venture to bet that even on their heyday, they did little to create excitement among the masses. And there are some other artists who no longer bask in the glow of superstardom, but come on... given less than 2 weeks notice, who did you think you were going to get?
I, for one, am thankful that one of our country's most beloved recording artists will only be making an appearance via satellite from Las Vegas. I don't think I could handle Celine on the same stage as Motley Crue and Deep Purple. That would just be too much for this old girl.
Let us not forget that our two most popular bands will be there, BNL and The Hip. Australian band Jet just got added. Simple Plan, Our Lady Peace, Sam Roberts??? Nothing to sneeze at.
Suck it up Canada.
I am fully aware that 99.99999% of Beatrice Petty is selfishly devoted to the happenings and random musings of yours truly. I don't see that changing anytime really soon, but occasionally, there will come a time when I feel the need to plug a cause that speaks to me.
One of the things that I love best about Canada is that we are very much aware of the goings on outside our own borders. We care or, at least we like to think we do.
It has been 35 years since Canadian Lester B. Pearson proposed that foreign aid from developed countries should double to 0.7% of their GNP. Has Canada ever reached this target? No. In fact, the money we give to developing countries has been steadily declining in recent years.
Cut to present day. Our current PM, the ever photogenic Paul Martin, pledged in his election campaign last year that he would significantly increase the monies going to foreign aid, hence why he and Bono became fast friends. Once again, our government has seemingly renegged on it's promise to increase aid.
But can you blame them? I wish you could see my eyes rolling... Sponsorship scandals and political intrigues take a much greater precedence in this country than helping out some poor people halfway across the world right??? And let's not forget that the opposition parties in this country are doing their darnedest to topple the minority government and block the budget, all in the belief that those involved in same-sex relationships do not deserve the same fundamental rights as us heterosexuals when it comes to marriage. At any rate, unhealthy political climate or not, there is no excuse for our country not not be follow through with our promises in these matters. Even Bono is pissed for crying out loud. I think I can speak for all Canadians when I say that we don't want Bono to be mad at us. Hell, we don't like it when ANYONE is mad at us, hence why we try to be everybody's bestest friend.
"But you can't be angry with us... we're... we're, Canada..."
With governments worldwide being so reluctant to take any initiative, it now seems to have fallen on the shoulders of private individuals to help out those in need. Enter Sir Bob with Live 8.
The announcement was made yesterday in Toronto that Canada's Live 8 concert is to be held July 2nd at Park Place (wherever the heck that is) in Barrie (just north of Toronto). Tickets go on "sale" tomorrow and are available free through Ticketmaster by answering the following trivia question:
What can the G8 countries do to make poverty history?
a) Increase foreign aid
b) Cancel the debt of poor countries
c) Make trade rules fair for the poor
d) All of the above
Yesterday, Sir Bob sent a message to our PM. Stay Home. Do not show up to the G8 Summit in Scotland if you have no intention of following through with the promises you have already made to increase aid. I hope he goes, and makes our country proud by choosing A through C of the above Multiple choice answers. Come on, it's multiple choice... the easiest kind of test. Only a monkey couldn't pass.
Here are some useful links should you be desirous of further intel on this matter:
Make Poverty History, Live 8, Live 8 Tix in Canada
Thank you for your patience and I hope to see y'all in Barrie on July 2nd!
In the future, when my bill comes to $4.53, would you kindly not give me 50 cents worth of nickels and dimes (3 dimes and 4 nickels) when I so obviously gave you the three pennies so I would not get back nickels and dimes?
And don't claim that you have no quarters... I could clearly see them in your draw.
Bea what the heck am I supposed to do for laundry now??? Petty
Like the former dictator, Bea likes Doritos.
Bea also does not like Fruit Loops and does not think too highly of the Bushies.
However, one thing that Bea does not have in common with the imprisoned un-enlightened despot... No Tighty Whities for this girl.
Party went well but it was quiet. Weather was icky, Bea was icky. Nothing says part-tay more, than having to blow one's nose every 2 minutes. But it turned out for the best. A small group of people showed; the people who we wanted to see the most were the ones who came and that always makes for a fun time.
And so begins another week of work... my last week of doing what I have been doing for the past 10 months. I can't be more excited, but I've gone back to being nervous, which I dislike. A lot. It's a cross between nervousness and anticipation. I can't complain though. My life has been so uneventful as of late that it's nice to shake the old emotions up a bit.
I'm also one mind-step closer to getting the f*#@! over myself. One big thing that I think was contributing to the funk was that the months of serial dating and hearing "I'm just not that into you" on a continual basis really took it's toll on my confidence. However, the malaise that set in a wee while back had the wonderful effect of causing me to reflect upon a lot of stuff. Among the many things that were non-boy related, there were some that were. I was able to bring myself back to a time where not having 5 different guys on the go was a good thing, and that my self-worth is independent of having 5 different guys on the go. I don't want 5 different guys... I want one. And when the Universe sees fit to introduce me to said fella, I'll be ready. For the time being, forcing it by going on blind dates with random men from the internet (put like that it sounds so wrong) is not the way to go for me. I'd rather hang out on my pretty little patio with my tomatoes, playing Balderdash, euchre and other such things.
That being said, with the summer upon us, t'would be nice to have someone to do stuff with. And I really miss cuddling. I guess I have my cat for that. She's such a cuddly little thing. If I could only train her to go to movies, dinners, concerts and the like, now that would be ideal. Do you think I could make a case for a seeing-eye cat? If I wore dark glasses and then harnessed her up, no one would know... except instead of her leading me, I would more than likely by dragging her behind me meowing and scared. Or, I could tell people that the cat is my dead husband who had a horrible transfiguration accident a few years back. His name would be Darren. Darren the Cat. No wait, my cat is a girl. My transexual husband Darren transfigured himself into a cat a few years back in a horrible experiment gone wrong. Sounds like a plan to me. I'll keep you posted.
Don't phunk with my heart
blah blah blah blah BLAH
Repeat over and over and over and over and over again.
Here's hoping the tunage (or booze) at the party tomorrow gets this song the phunk out of my head!
The newest to come out of this whole train wreck (besides the engagement) is that Octopus Man has now hired a "minder" to look after Cling-on Girl as she does her Batman Returns promos.
Pardon me, but what exactly does a "minder" do? Re"mind" Cling-on Girl of her undying love for Octopus Man? I'm of the opinion that if you have to pay someone to re"mind" the love of your life that they love you, that there is something not right in the relationship. And by relationship, I mean publicity stunt.
I'm sorry, I am just not buying it. Perhaps it's because I am not into Public Displays of Affection. I've always felt that people who are touchy-feely-kissy in public are trying to prove only to themselves that they are in love. Of course, yours truly has been known to snog in public, but never without having consumed copious amounts of alcoholic substances first... cough... Bathurst Street... I suppose it's entirely possible that the happy couple is sloshed 99% of the time. It would explain a lot.
In some ways, the whole situation is reminiscent of men with small youknowwhat's buying larger than life vehicles or overcompensating with pumping iron/steroids. There is an air of insecurity and desperation about the whole affair.
The roomie would argue that it is well known in the entertainment industry that Octopus Man is not big into the fairer sex. This could also explain the non-stop PDA that we are bombarded with on a daily basis.
"I can't be gay if I am attached at the hip to a girl."
At any rate, whatever the deal is, it's just really, really, really annoying. So much so, that it has inspired me to write a haiku.
(for those who are fairly new to BP... good for you, the old BP, when written in Vic when she had a bf was decidedly bland... a regular feature used to be my honkus or driving inspired haikus such as:
Ode to the Left Turn Signal
Old person driving
Can you not hear that ticking?
Please, stop the blinking!)
Anyway, please allow me to present this CelebrityKu entitled:
Gag Me With A Spoon
Grope, grope, kissy-face.
Publicity stunt? Never.
Go see our films, NOW!
Beatrice (better now that I have gotten it out of my system) Petty
Is not me right now. I made it through pretty much the entire winter without getting sick, Had a couple of icky days, but nothing like this. I think it's allergies, but having never had allergies EVER...
... actually, I am allergic to seafood... mostly psychosomatic I am sure, but try telling that to my friend RB who had to pretty much replace his couch after the smoked salmon pasta incident...
Anyway, never having had hay fever and those other fun seasonal thangs, I'm only assuming that that is what it is. So far, my favorite has been my constant weepy right eye. It's super fun. Even more fun when you see a former-PNB... not THE former potential new boyfriend aka ULH... another one, from before his time... This completely adorable English chemist... I saw him for the first time in 8 months at the Maddy Paddy last night. I looked quite the picture of loveliness with my water-tap eye and snotty raw nose. Adorable. It's not like I was wanting to impress or that I am interested in him romantically, I just wanted to look semi-decent. One always wants a former potential to think "Damn... now WHY wasn't I interested???"... as opposed to "Yikes... dodged that bullet. Phew". Sadly, last night was the latter. Sigh.
On top of that, over fears of grossing out the Bare Naked Ladies at the event I was supposed to volunteer at tomorrow, I have decided to bow out. So upset, but what's to be done? I don't think anyone wants to be served hors d'oeurves from Weepy McSnot. I know I wouldn't. Fingers crossed that I will feel better for the party on Saturday.
So, the party is just 3 sleeps away. Yay... and not so yay. If you would be so kind as to let me take you back in time, I will tell you why.
Last Saturday night, driving along Bloor Street en route to the Danforth with da boyz. One of said boyz was my good friend Timmy... great guy, lots of fun, loves to sing, great voice... his rendition of Edelweiss is to die for. He starts in with Hey Mama by the Black-Eyed Peas. In theory, this is good, because it is a great song. In theory.
In theory, it helps that, if you are going to sing a song, you should know the words. The next 20 minutes went as follows.
La la LA la la la... Hey Mama
La la LA la la la...
Ok, so you get the picture.
Fast forward to:
Present day. The last few days have been all about coming up with songs for the patio party mix. Apparently I suck at this. Trying to come up with songs that are both "wickedhipcool" AND "reminds me of summer" is just not my bag baby. Some of my suggestions included such past hits as "Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting", and "Who Let the Dogs Out". These were immediately dismissed by the roomie. What can I say, I worked at Club Med... when I think "songs that remind me of summer", I think of the fromage we had to listen to in the village. I am that big of a dork... sue me.
So, "wickedhipcool" eh? What songs are out right now that I know and that are not dorky? Hmmm... Let's just say that the last few days have gone something like this.
Bea thinks to herself "Songs, songs, I need some songs..."
La la LA la la la... Hey Mama...
Like my friend Timmy, these are the only words I know to this song. Do you know it is like to have had only this going through your head for 4 days? Two words: Bru and Tal.
This morning before leaving for work, the roomie gave a sampling of the compilation she made (ahem... will refrain from bewailing the fact that my song suggestions, even ones I made in all seriousness seem to have been mysteriously omitted from said compilation... cough). The last song I heard before leaving the loft?
La la LA la la la.
Come one, come all... t'will be a grand ol' time.
Anyway, seeing as how Molly has taken it upon herself to compile la musique pour le soir, I thought that I would at least try and contribute in some small way... seeing as how probably no one I know will show up... just going by past experience... I am such a Winner. Yes, that's a capital W folks.
I will take it upon myself to provide a little something that our guests can partake in. A punch? Jello shots perhaps? Yuckafluck?
C'mon, I know you are all boozers... any and all suggestions welcome.
Tanked... oops, I mean thanks,
The time has come to make Beatrice Petty fully interactive. I need your help thusly:
Whilst sipping java on our lovely patio this morning, the roomie had a super idea.
"Now that you are getting the *#@! over yourself", she said "You need a theme song."
True dat Sista.
So here's where y'all come in. Past theme songs of my life have included such gems as "All By Myself, "Super Freak", "the Joker", "C is For Cookie" and "Tomorrow" to name a few. Now I need to kick things up a notch. Bam.
The roomie's pick is "I'm Comin' Out" by Diana Ross, but I am not necessarily uber taken with this one... It might be what I am all about right now, but I feel the need to open up this topic for further discussion. Let's make a little contest out of it shall we? Feel free to post you comments below, or email me using the link on the side bar. The prize? I dunno, probably some stuff that I can snag from work, but I'll need to see what we have in the tickle trunk.
So, if you'd like to make difference in the life of Bea (not that you already don't, my little cyber-friends)... and perhaps get a nifty sumpin' sumpin' from your friendly neighbourhood NOC...
Let the fun begin!
I went from thinking that I had the crappiest wardrobe that ever crapped, to thinking that perhaps I might be able to pull off some semi-decent outfits this summer, without having to lay out tonnes of cash. Has this ever happened to anyone? Where you go through your entire closet and think:
"When the hell did I get these pants? They're adorable."
"Oh my god, I totally forgot I had this skirt."
"I love this shirt, it just needs a little mending to make it OK."
"I can't wait to wear this again."
"Ugh, I didn't give this away to Goodwill because???"
You get the picture. At any rate, I've got my summer bottoms covered, but I did come to the conclusion that my summer tops suck. This is all I will say on this subject. I can hear the boys sighing with relief.
Now very quickly as I am waiting to be picked up by some friends so we can dine on the Danforth--the Greek part of town... my mouth is watering at the thought of Saganaki, a fried cheese dish that is my idea of heaven... and then off to a house party but...
I just wanted to give y'all a "getting the *#@! over myself" progress report. It's coming along swimmingly. I am no longer stressed about the new job. I am going to rock. The first samples of writing that I had to submit for some projects came back with rave reviews. I really don't know why I had any doubts in the first place. So much so that I look back on the last month of freaking out about it, and think what the *#@! was I thinking? Such a dumb-as sometimes.
Anyway, that's one thing out of the way. And if the past week and the next 3 weeks are any indication of what's in store for the summer, I am certainly the the *#@! out there. Parties, BBQ's, camping, volunteering (BNL and Film Fest stuff)-- I'm back baby!
As for the writing... I'm sure it'll happen soon. I've jumped on the Artist's Way bandwagon and will be starting some writing exercises this week to get my creative mojo back.
Gotta run... must brush teeth.
PS... WTF is up with 41 degree weather???
So, what does a girl who knows 5,000 people do for her birthday? Why rent out a club and invite 600 of her closest friends of course. Such was the case last night at this party attended by yours truly and Girl at The Century Room on King West. As usual, my expectations were low. I was fully prepared to be drowned in a sea of Metrosexuals. I'm happy when I am wrong, which, as the former-PNB is so quick to point out, is quite frequent.
Gathered together under one roof was one of the most diverse group of people I have yet encountered at a downtown club in this fair city. Character after character popped in and out of our little world.
First there was the Fashion Designer who decided that Girl and I were to be henceforth known as Shoshanna and Mary Ann respectively. And the there was Grenville, a world famous violinist known only in Hamilton. He carried a man purse. I took great pleasure making fun of his man purse. And then there were some very nice metro's...
And then I tried to leave. And then my rubber arm was twisted and I stayed... and then there was the mini-Michael Vartan... and then I tried to leave... again... And then my rubber arm was twisted.. again... and I stayed... again. And then I really did leave.
However, despite my very late night, and many G&T's, I am surprisingly alert and hangover-free today. More so than I was yesterday after fewer beers and a much earlier night. So here's my little rant du jour. I've never really understood the logic of hangovers. Sometimes, I can go out, have very little in the way of alcoholic beverages and spend the next day on the couch. Other times, I can debauch like a sailor and feel as chipper as the day is long. What gives?
Asking your girlfriend of 5 years to marry you in public requires a lot of courage (or stupidity depending on who you ask). If you are going to go out on a limb and publicly declare your love and devotion to your significant other, please keep the following in mind:
8 When proposing, please ensure that your sunglasses are off.
8 Try to have a ring. If you do not have one (ie. it’s a spur of the moment thing), do not go into detail about how you are too poor to afford a ring.
8 Wait until she has said yes before you get the waiter to take a picture of the happy newlyweds to be.
8 Try to find out beforehand whether your girlfriend has been sleeping with your best friend, who just happens to be sitting at the table with you.
So Dude went into this long spiel about being in love… blah, blah, blah, only to be told once he went down on one knee that his girlfriend of 5 years had been sleeping with the corn-braided fella sitting at the same table.
It was a scene right out of a movie. So much so that no one on the patio knew whether to take the whole incident seriously. One guy even went so far as to pipe in “She did you too?” while Dude was ranting about his girlfriend “doing” his friend. His reaction, which was decidedly angry and genuine, led me to believe that the whole thing was for real. As did the continuation of his ire as he was being escorted off the premises by another friend. The entire affair was over as fast as it started, but it left a good 30 people all asking the same question:
“Did that just happen?”
Oh yeah, and some other funny things happened too. Gotta love Wednesday nights at the Maddy!
Although... I might miss it once it's gone... It's been pretty hysterical to have our IT Guru turn my monitor away from me to shield my virgin eyes from the porn site that has now become my default home page.
"So, THAT'S how babies are made..."
Bea "not a happy internet camper" Petty
Foreword by Beatrice Petty:
So, I was on my usual subway ride to my place of work this morning when I just happened to snag a seat... Yes, a seat in rush hour.
"Wow, that Beatrice is so lucky", I can hear you all murmur with a hint of jealousy in your voice.
One would have thought, but sadly, no... Unfortunately for me, I happened to sit next to an individual of the female persuasion who, it would seem, had decided that the best place for her to put her face on was not in the privacy of her own home, but in front of dozens and dozens of commuters on our lovely TTC.
Second perhaps only to sitting next to the person with a runny nose who feels that it is better to sniff back their snot incessantly rather than risk drawing full attention to themselves by actually blowing their nose or even wiping it on their sleeve... The Public Groomer is a person who I just want to take by the shoulders and shake with all my might.
I happened upon this particular person as she was applying mascara, which, for those not in the know, is usually the last step in the make-up application process. OK, she's almost done, I can live with that, I thought to myself as I sat down with my free subway newspaper. Holy Mother of God, I could not have been more wrong. The next 20 minutes unfolded henceforth:
8:20am: Bea boards the train, scoops a seat next to PG. PG in the middle of applying mascara to her lashes.
8:25am: Mascara still being applied.
8:27am: PG then applies lip gloss.
8:30am: Lip gloss still not applied thickly enough.
8:31am: Sufficient lip gloss level attained. Hair in disarray. Brushing begins.
8:35am: Brushing continues. Bea wonders how much straighter PG's hair can get.
8:37am: Lip gloss level deemed inadequate, glossing resumes. Bea notices others in the car giving PG queer looks.
8:40am: Glossing ends due to what one can only assume to be the expiration on the part of the lip-gloss tube. Mascara application begins a new.
8:45am: Train reaches point of connection. PG abruptly ends grooming only because she has reached her stop. Bea's give PG the "What the?!?!?" look and in return gets the evil eye.
Please find following Bea's Complete Idiot's Guide to Primping in Public. I ask no money for this public service... only that should the desire to get all gussied up in the most public of places strike you, that you consider the feelings of those around you.
1) Public transportation in rush hour is not the environment in which you should apply make-up. Putting on make-up is as private a grooming habit as putting on deodorant and plucking your nose hairs. No one wants to see it. Also, you risk mis-applying said make-up should the bus/subway/streetcar brake or veer suddenly.
2) Putting on lip stick, lip gloss and/or lip balm IS acceptable if not applied in a maniacal or obsessive manner. 1-3 layers is more than ample to bring out the sultry lines of your lips.
3) Please make sure you apply deodorant... bare minimum, once a day. No one likes a Stinky Steven or Sally as the case may be. Also, continuing on in the smell category, please do not use mothballs... ever. Nothing makes me want to vomit more than the smell of mothballs first thing in the morning. Oh, and garlic too. If you decide to apply eau de garlique first thing in the morning, please stay home.
Thank you everyone for your cooperation. Let's all work together to make public transportation a safer and less annoying way to travel.
But here's an FYI... Do not do a Yahoo image search for "sick" unless you are prepared to see a picture of three senior citizens engaged in acts that should otherwise be left behind closed doors. I do not want to see someone's grandpa doing a certain something to someone else's grandpa. Shudder.
A man after my own heart.
He likes cheese.
He likes to travel.
He is British.
True, he may be shorter than what I have been attracted to in the past, but I have grown particularily fond of vast amounts of facial hair of late.
Anyone know where I can write him?
Specifically it was in regard to being the envy of all your married friends. I have also heard it phrased as "I sleep with a different girl(s) every week. Every guy would kill to be me".
Now, obviously I am not of the male persuasion so truly I cannot put myself in the shoes of all the married men out there, but Whoa. One wonders that if married men are so apt to live vicariously through their women hating friends, why they chose to get married at all. Because that is what it is... to treat a woman as if she were a disposable ass-wipe is really to have no regard for her as a living creature at all. Your married and coupled friends might tell you to your face that they think your chosen lifestyle is the she*t... of course they will, they are your friends... but deep down they are thanking themselves every day that they found someone that they can come home to every night. Someone who they can share their hopes and fears with; their dreams and nightmares.
When this "all guys are jealous of me" attitude first came to my attention... through a friend of mine who luckily knew what this guy was all about before she met him, she was like... "you are not going to believe this... he really thinks this way". My first thought wasn't disbelief, or even disgust. It was pity. I pitied this fool. I wondered what woman could have done something so horrible that he had decided to get back at her by treating all women like the gunk on a q-tip after cleaning your ears. And then my mind fast-forwarded to the future of this individual... when he is 50 and all of his friends been lost to the hell that is apparently, love and fidelity... and he will be alone, and unfulfilled... and making an ass out of himself being a 50 year old guy acting like a 20 year old man whore. Sufficed to say, I am pretty sure that pity was not an emotion that this guy had expected to be directed towards him. He was not impressed when I brought it to his attention.
For the guys out there who live their lives this way... good for you. It's a free country and you can live your life in this manner if you choose. We need you in order to realize that there are really, truly decent guys out there. Just be wary of the girls you choose to use and dispose of. I'm sure there are lots of girls, especially those who have yet to find their own sense of self-worth, who are happy to let guys treat them in this manner... out to have a bit of casual fun as they say. Decent guys... be patient with us girls, as most of us have encountered these dudes at one time or other in our dating lives.
As for me? Being reminded that there are lots of men out there whose sole purpose is to go through women like water makes me much less enthusiastic about hitting the bar scene on a weekly basis... but then again, I haven't been in a long time. I will be having fun this summer, of that you can be sure, but I can assure you that effing my brains out with a different guy every week is not the way to inner fulfillment... at least not for me anyway. To each their own.
Beatrice "proud to be a monogamist" Petty
That the worst thing I could do just before being paroled would be to enter into a relationship with another vicious murderer.
I'm just saying.
The solution to getting out of this rut? After much thought, in plain and simple terms:
I need to get the *#@! over myself
8 Lack of mojo? Get the *#@! over it. I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. Gosh Darnit. People like me... somehow I forgot that. No more! Get the *#@! over it!
8 Stressing about the new job that starts in a month; specifically doubting that I can actually do the job? Get the *#@! over it. No one else has any doubts that I can do it. I know deep down that I can. Why I am so stressed out about the unknown in this case is a complete mystery to me. Get the *#@! over it!
8 Feelings of loneliness and disconnectedness? Get the *#@! over it! How do I get the *#@! over it? I just have to. Get out more. Join a club. Go to poetry readings, the beach, the park. Get the *#@! over it!
8 Lack of creativity? Get the *#@! over it. I moved to Toronto to become the famous and talented writer I know I can be. Writer's block, Schmiter's block... Get back to writing. I believe in my work and my ideas. Get the *#@! over it!
Get the *#@! over myself
I am so looking forward to having the old Bea back. She really is a cool chick.
My Brit fetish also came up, and it seems that Adorable Geek (as the roomie has fondly nicknamed him) will not be much help when it comes to quelling said fetish. You see, it turns out that the above mentioned AG... who really is quite adorable... knows many men of the British persuasion. I can see only good things coming from this new acquaintance.
So, when the conversation turned the proverbial sexual corner...
British men + sex + Bea = Wall-eyed Irishman.
More specifically how this particular blind Irishman, though lacking in bedroom skills in the traditional sense, was able to do certain things to certain other things to a certain person, in a certain way to cause certain things to happen. Certain good things. I'm throwing it out there that if there are any boys reading this, you might want to email me to get the 411 on a certain something that might help with a certain other something when used on certain someones. A certain good something. Of course, I jest, but a word to the wise... humans have imaginative brains for a reason.
Thank you for your cooperation in this matter,
... That I have had this conversation verbatim on several different occasions?
And did you also know that I have, in fact, dated several boys with British accents... for no other reason other than because they had said accents?
I know. I have a problem.
Admitting it is the first step towards recovery.
Cheerio... no wait... that's not helping.